A Day Late
by vjs2259
Summary: Timing is everything, they say. What if John Sheridan hadn't returned from Z'ha'dum when he did? AU from S3: The Summoning onwards. This starts with Blind, previously published, and continues for six total parts.
1. Blind

**A Day Late 1: Blind**

_Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words._

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Delenn jerked upright, gripping the edge of the narrow tilted bed. She'd almost fallen out again. She'd never fallen out of bed, not even as a child. Her ability to balance, once natural and simple, had been lost. She sat on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for the trembling to stop. Every night since he'd left, she'd woken up like this; falling, falling, endlessly falling, never reaching the ground. Waking in a cold sweat, every limb trembling from the effort to keep herself from falling; every night ended the same way. Vertigo, Stephen had diagnosed, and given her a prescription. Try a horizontal bed, Susan had suggested, scoffing at her unspoken fears. Lennier had scoured the Minbari shops on the station looking for healing teas and folk remedies. Nothing had helped.

She called out softly, 'Lights low', and the small triangular prism on the table by her bed emitted a soft white glow. Her quarters on board the White Star were spartan by any standard, but the simplicity appealed to her at this point. She felt as if her life had been pared down to its essence. There was one goal, one aim, one battle left to fight. The small voice that whispered in the night of revenge was ruthlessly silenced. Her whole life had been spent in preparation to fight Shadows; and fight them she would. The fact that John was lost only strengthened her resolve.

The days that she had spent on the station afterwards, numbed by grief and hiding from the overwhelming pain and guilt, were behind her. Stephen had shown her the recording John had made, and she had taken his words as a sign; that she was to make her own attempt on the Shadow's homeworld, to follow in his footsteps. Summoning the Rangers and setting their mission had been easy; the harder part had come when she had told Susan of her plans…

"You're going to do what?" her friend, now commander of the Babylon 5 station, base of their operations, had expostulated.

"They have been severely weakened," Delenn continued patiently. "We saw the damage, and it was extensive. Only their automatic defenses were left. A crushing blow at this time may take Z'ha'dum from them permanently."

"We know they have bases scattered throughout the galaxy; those ships will return and destroy your fleet, just before they come here to destroy us!"

"They will come anyway, Susan, you know that." Delenn's voice was flat and devoid of emotion.

Susan Ivanova looked down at her desk, John's desk. She'd had to use it, she had no office space close to C&C and she needed a place to work. The work was overwhelming. So far everyone was holding their breath, waiting for definitive news. The station continued to function, and the chain of command was holding, but she felt she was holding it together by a thread. Alliance members were pulling out their ships, and some diplomatic delegations were also leaving. Everyone was going home to wait for whatever was coming. Now Delenn was going too.

"I will leave you a small contingent of White Stars, and one of the Minbari war cruisers. We will return as soon as we can, Susan."

"If you do return. But thank you for leaving us some protection. We've always been sitting ducks here, and there won't be many Alliance ships left at the rate they're leaving."

Delenn's lips met in a thin line. "They are cowards, and fools. They cannot run from the Shadows."

"Maybe not. Maybe they just want to die at home." Susan sighed, "I'm not sure I blame them. When do you leave?"

"I hope to convince a few members of the League to come with us. Perhaps a week, no more. We have to strike quickly to have any hope of succeeding."

Susan looked thoughtful, "Could you loan me a White Star in the meantime?"

Surprised, Delenn said, "I suppose so. I would need to know why."

"I'd like to take another stab at locating some First Ones. It would still be a good idea to have them on our side in this. We don't know if they even know what's going on…"

"Or if they find it any of their concern." Delenn spoke in clipped tones. She didn't necessarily approve of this quest. Still, it could do no harm. She wondered at Susan's being willing to leave the station at this critical time, but decided that was her friend's business. "Marcus will accompany you. You will need him to translate for the crew."

Susan smiled tentatively, "Actually, I've been teaching myself Minbari..." She paused at the impatient look on Delenn's face.

"You will take Marcus. Ours is a difficult language, and there is no room for error in command." Delenn's tone indicated no further discussion was required, or desired.

Nonplussed, Susan wondered privately at this new, harder version of the Minbari ambassador. Delenn had changed; it was as if she no longer bothered with diplomatic niceties, and barely with the politeness expected of friendship. Her whole focus was her mission, and while her strategy had a distinct appeal, Susan had a station full of people to protect, as long and as well as she could. Her mission was a different one.

"All right, I'd like to leave as soon as possible. Can you brief Marcus, and have him and a ship ready by this afternoon?" asked Susan briskly.

"Of course," replied Delenn. "I plan to speak with Lyta next. I have gotten no answer from the Vorlon ambassador regarding our plans. This is unacceptable."

Susan refrained from showing her surprise. Delenn's attitude towards even the Vorlon had changed. "Let me know what she says. I'd be interested in their reaction to all this."

"So far it has not been promising," Delenn said grimly. "I rather think we are on our own in this."

"Great," muttered Susan. "Just great."

The situation continued to deteriorate. Lyta admitted that the Vorlon had received Delenn's messages, with no response forthcoming. She agreed to try and find out what was going on with Kosh. Susan and Marcus left on their quixotic quest. Zack Allan left the station to follow up a lead on the missing chief of Security. Then the Brakiri ambassador confided to Delenn that there was a movement brewing to prevent her mission to Z'ha'dum.

That afternoon, Delenn sent Lennier to reconnoiter and find out more about the putative protest meeting. Honestly, there wasn't much the League could do other than influence others to stay away from her venture. The Rangers would pay no attention to them; they listened only to her. They had also listened to Sheridan when he was here to command them…but of course they had. She indulged herself briefly, remembering the early days of their working together against the common enemy. John had the aura of a leader, and the Rangers responded to him, even without her directive to obey his orders as they would hers. It had warmed her heart to see their response to him; they had fulfilled her every expectation. John had as well, and more. Dashing the useless tears from her eyes, she answered the incoming call from Lennier. The meeting was on.

Susan returned from her journey just in time to witness the end of the riot in the Zocalo. Fighting had broken out on the floor below the balcony, and Delenn and Lennier were in the middle of it. Lennier had disabled several people in the crowd who had attacked Delenn, and they, along with the Minbari ambassador had been taken to MedLab with minor injuries. To Susan's surprise and joy, the injured were joined by Garibaldi, who had been retrieved by Zack from a life pod jettisoned by a raider ship. That was the only piece of good news she'd received that day. She'd met with Lyta, letting her know what she and Marcus had found hidden in hyperspace. The following morning, Susan called them all together to exchange notes.

"A fleet of Vorlon ships, hidden in hyperspace," said Lennier doubtfully.

Susan nodded, looking to Marcus to back her up.

"Vorlons, definitely. A bloody awful lot of Vorlons," he agreed.

Lyta chimed in, her voice strained, "They plan to take out all the planets that are touched by Shadow, willingly or not. We've told you what they've done already."

Susan watched carefully as Stephen reiterated his disbelief at the destruction of so many sentients by their erstwhile allies, and Garibaldi remained aloof and silent, apart from the group. Delenn looked stunned but not surprised; her response perhaps subdued by the injuries she'd suffered in the riot.

Finally, Susan spoke loudly to quell the discussion which was veering towards incoherence, "The question remains. What do we do?"

"My plans remain the same. I will take the Rangers to Z'ha'dum. If we strike a mortal blow at the Shadows, perhaps the Vorlons can be persuaded to cease this purge," Delenn stated authoritatively. "Lennier will accompany me. Marcus may make his own choice on where he would best serve the Anla'Shok. I would ask Lyta for her assistance, if she is willing. She has faced the defense systems at Z'ha'dum before."

Lyta said quickly, without meeting anyone's eyes. "I'm afraid that Ambassador Kosh would not allow it."

Marcus looked over at Susan, who said dismissively, "I'd be glad of your support, but I'm sure Michael and I can handle things, with Stephen's help. Your choice." Privately, she hoped he'd stay. It was selfish of her, but she still felt the trip to Z'ha'dum was going to be one way, and she'd grown…accustomed to Marcus. Keeping her face carefully schooled in a neutral expression, she realized in shock that she would actually miss him if he left.

"Oh, I rather think I'll go along with my fellow Rangers on this one. Never been to Z'ha'dum, and it seems this might be my last chance." Marcus was leaning against the arm of Lennier's chair in the office where the meeting was being held.

The Ranger's tone was cool and distant, but Lennier at least, noticed his hand, resting on the back of the chair, clenching and unclenching, as if to relieve some hidden tension.

"Very well, then." Susan kept her voice steady, hiding her disappointment, and her own surprise at the depth of her emotions. "When will you leave?"

"Today. There is no longer any reason to delay. No more ships will join us, and every minute we wait, they are reconstituting their defenses. We leave this afternoon." Delenn stood and bowed towards Susan. "I will speak with you upon our return. We will be maintaining com silence until we near our target."

Susan made a formal bow in return, then said abruptly, "Be careful, Delenn. Don't let your emotions blind you. In battle, it can be dangerous."

For a moment the old Delenn showed through in an amused look and a half-smile, "Excellent advice, my friend. Easier given than followed, however." With a swirl of her robes, she left the room, followed by Lennier and Lyta.

Marcus paused for a moment, and turned back to Susan to say, "I hate good-byes, don't you?"

Susan replied, "So, I'll see you when I see you then." Marcus nodded abruptly, and left.

Garibaldi peeled himself off of the wall where he'd been leaning during the conversation. "That's one hopeless mission."

Stephen broke in, questioning, "Don't you think they'll make it?"

"No," Susan said softly, "I don't." She turned to Michael and said, "We've got a station to run. Let's get to work."

The next day, John Sheridan returned from Z'ha'dum.

Susan was in C&C when the alert came. Incoming ship, unknown configuration; that was bad enough. The last thing they needed right now was a first contact situation. When the alien ship used their own code frequencies to activate docking procedures, she hit the direct link to Security requesting a fully armed security team go to the docking bay immediately. Racing through the corridor to the turbo-lift, she cursed her luck. Things had actually calmed down a little once Delenn and her happy band of suicidal Rangers had left the day before. A pang of guilt hit her as she realized she'd consigned Marcus to anonymity among the crew in Delenn's fleet. She was already in the process of writing him out of her life. Once inside the car, she smacked the button for her floor hard, trying to mask one pain with another.

Exiting the car at a dead run, she almost collided with Garibaldi and Zack coming down another hallway in full body armor, followed by half a dozen security guards. Gesturing them to stay behind her, and telling them to hold their fire until they were certain the new arrivals were hostile, she cautiously approached the arched opening to the docking bay. The transport was just locking into place, and she could only see vague outlines of two figures through the frosted glass. It wasn't clear enough to tell what species or how many of them exactly were in there. Running through first contact procedures in her head, she braced for the unexpected as the door slid open.

"Well, I'll be damned," she heard from behind her.

Mentally, she heartily echoed the sentiment, wondering whether this was some ploy by God to kill her with kindness. She stood motionless, mouth open, as her commanding officer, who had been presumed dead, walked slowly towards her, accompanied by a tall silent alien of a type she'd never seen before. He stopped about three feet away from her.

"Susan."

Her mouth closed, then opened again, but no sound came out.

"Susan, it's me."

This time she managed a response, "So it seems." After what seemed an eternity, she added, "Damn, John, what happened? Where have you been?"

"That's a hell of a welcome," he said, although he softened the words with a smile.

When he smiled, suddenly she knew it really was him, somehow, back from that horrible place. Smiling back, she impulsively embraced him, hoping to hide the welling tears. "Welcome back," she said, hoping no one could hear the tremor in her voice.

"Susan, stand away from him."

Susan heard the hostile note of command in Garibaldi's voice, and stepped away from John, turning to face the Security chief. Noting with alarm that he had kept his PPG rifle trained on Sheridan, she demanded, "Michael, what's wrong with you? Stand down!"

Garibaldi, never taking his eyes off Sheridan, answered her. "What makes you think this is really the Captain? From what you told me, he should be dead. You told me he _was_ dead! And who's this with him?"

"I don't know yet! We'll find out soon enough. Now stand down!" Susan glared at Garibaldi, and pointed to the rest of the security team behind him. "That's an order, Mr. Allan…all of you. Weapons down. Stand at ease."

The other guards looked uneasily at her, then back at their chief, but lowered their weapons. Garibaldi did so also, but he kept his rifle aimed in the general direction of the two arrivals. He jerked his head to the other guards, and said, "Let's escort the Captain and his friend to Commander Ivanova's office. Fall in behind them. Stay alert."

Susan shook her head in exasperation. She had counted on Garibaldi to back her up, not challenge her directly in the first crisis. "Good idea, Mr. Garibaldi." She ordered two of the guards to lead the way, and two more to follow, then added, "The rest of you return to your duties."

Garibaldi looked her in the eye and said, "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure. Now let's go somewhere a little more private. We have lots to talk about." She strode off after the guards. Sheridan fell into place beside her, which left Garibaldi to escort the alien. He darted short suspicious glances at the stranger sideways. All he got in return was an unblinking, condescending stare.

By the time they reached Sheridan's office, Garibaldi was seething inside. When he'd returned, he'd spent hours in MedLab with Stephen, getting checked out physically, mentally, and emotionally. He'd been questioned over and over again as to where he'd been, and why he couldn't remember anything that had happened. Sheridan walked in from a nuclear holocaust with an unknown alien and his miraculous return was taken on faith. He'd never had much use for faith. Garibaldi resolved to keep an eye on the both of them. Susan was in over her head, and wanted someone to take back command, that was obvious. She'd always had a soft spot for Sheridan anyway. He was somewhat mollified to see Stephen hastening towards them in the hallway. At least she'd had the presence of mind to call in the doctor.

Stephen didn't know what to expect from Ivanova's hurried call. Hope and anxiety warred in his mind, but he calmed down as he clicked over to physician mode. It was always easiest to deal with a crisis in this deliberate and carefully cultivated neutrality.

Approaching the conference room door, he looked down the hallway, beyond the guards to see Ivanova talking earnestly with the Captain, or someone who looked a hell of a lot like him. He barely had time to notice the strange alien with Garibaldi, or Garibaldi's barely concealed hostility, or Ivanova's glow of happiness, before he reached the group.

"Stephen, it's good to see you."

It certainly sounded like Sheridan; that air of casual confidence and personal warmth. "It's frankly astonishing to see you, Captain. I'll need to look you over…"

"After I find out what's been going on here, Doctor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. So do I."

The debriefing was quick and shattering. Sheridan had simply walked behind his desk, resuming command without a word said or permission asked or granted. Garibaldi was standing apart, taking a break from his divided surveillance of the Captain and the alien only to exchange a worried glance with Stephen. The doctor held up a hand, palm outward, trying to let Garibaldi know he shared his concerns but wanted to take it slow. Stephen was anxious to examine Sheridan, but the more the man talked, the more convincing he was. When Ivanova told them of the Vorlon fleet, and the planet-killers they had used, Stephen noted a glance exchanged between the Captain and the alien he had introduced as Lorien. Both seemed more disappointed than surprised by the news. He hoped he'd have a chance to examine Lorien as well. He'd never seen another alien like him. Running through the xenobiological classification system he'd learned in school and later modified for use on the station, he tried to determine what kind of system the alien came from. His attention was brought back to the conversation abruptly as Sheridan suddenly asked, "Where's Delenn?"

Ivanova sat up straight, and answered directly. "Halfway to Z'ha'dum by now. With a fleet of White Stars behind her." At John's look of dismay, she said quickly, "There was no stopping her; not after what we saw of the planet when we got there…"

Sheridan interrupted her, "You went there? Who went, and for God's sake, why?"

Ivanova quickly explained her journey with Delenn and Lyta, and, without going into all the personal details, the effect she had seen in Delenn, and the aftermath. Sheridan shook his head, as if trying to adjust his thinking, and said, "This changes things." He glanced over at Garibaldi and said, "Did you know about this? This attack mission?"

Garibaldi shrugged, "I've been away, as you've heard. I was in the last meeting before Delenn left. It didn't seem like a bad idea, going after them while they're down. Might be a chance she could do some damage."

"She'll get herself killed, and it won't work in any case." Sheridan quietly. He looked over at Lorien, "I'll have to stop her." The alien nodded without speaking, and Sheridan continued, "I have my own ideas about how to end this, and attacking Z'ha'dum isn't part of the plan. Are there any White Stars available, Susan?"

"Delenn left three to protect the station, along with a Minbari war cruiser. You can't be serious about going after her…she has almost a day's head start! We can't contact her; she's engaged silent running protocols. If you get there in the middle of a battle, we risk losing both of you!" Susan broke off, as a thought occurred to her, "John, before we decide anything, Stephen needs to take a look at you. You don't want to go into detail about what happened to you, I get that, but there are things we need to know."

"No problem." Sheridan was curt, but smiled at her to take the edge off. "The Shadows didn't interfere with me, Susan. Stephen can confirm that for you. But I don't have much time; I have to stop that fleet. I'll need every ship I can get for what I have in mind, and losing most or all of them on an attack on Z'ha'dum just won't cut it. I need you to call a meeting of the League, in an hour. I'll convince them to get their ships back here. Be as discreet as you can; I don't want anything getting back to the Vorlons about this." He looked around at them, and barked, "Let's go, people! Stephen, I'm with you." He walked out of the room, with Lorien trailing after him, and Stephen hurrying to catch up.

Susan stared after them, then looked over at Garibaldi, who was chewing his lower lip in concentration.

"Michael, what do you think?"

"Sure sounds like the Captain. Acts like him too. I don't like the looks of that alien though…what's his story? And how in hell did Sheridan survive a nuclear blast? That just isn't possible!"

Susan looked at him pointedly, "There are a lot of mysteries right now we can't answer. We can either follow his lead or not. I don't have any bright ideas of how to get out of this mess, but getting the League ships back would help protect the people here. I'll go along with that. And Stephen will let us know if he's been physically changed."

Garibaldi broke in, "What if the change isn't physical? What if they won him over?"

"Not a possibility," Susan said coldly. "For God's sake, Michael, get a grip. Let him go after Delenn. She'll deal with him. If he's been co-opted by the enemy, she'll be able to tell."

"I don't know, Susan," Garibaldi rubbed the back of his neck worriedly, "You know, they say love is blind…will Delenn only see what she wants to see?"

"Suspicion and paranoia can blind you too, Michael. I don't know if you've ever understood that." She stared out the door, "I think it's him. I feel it, in a way I can't explain. Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith. You keep an eye on him, and Lorien as well while they're here; it's good policy. For now, I'm following the Captain's orders. I have a meeting to set up." She left the room without saying any more.

Things were quiet on board White Star One. Delenn had taken as her command vessel the very first White Star commissioned. It was the one she had first shown John, the one they had taken to Ganymede, and just over there was by the main viewing port was where he had first kissed her. It was a test, she thought to herself. If she could stand being on board this ship, with all its memories, then she would be able to finish the mission. That was all that remained to her, finishing the mission she had set herself, to destroy the homeworld of the Shadows. Looking around the bridge, she saw Rangers and non-Anla'Shok Minbari working together, as if they were one unit. Lennier was at the communications station, monitoring any messages making their way through hyperspace. She had chosen to stay silent, with only vital communications allowed between ships; hopefully it would give them some advantage as they approached Z'ha'dum. Only two telepaths were aboard her ship, and two apiece on the other White Stars. The two Minbari cruisers had three each. She wished Lyta had come. It was perhaps for the best; the human was well-meaning, but her connection with the Vorlons made her automatically suspect. She was glad that Marcus had chosen to accompany them, although part of her wished that he would have spoken to Susan and settled things between them before he left. There might not be much time remaining for them. Glancing over at Lennier, she caught him observing her. He smiled and nodded, and she found her heart warming at his obvious concern. Lennier was the one constant in her life these days, the one she could always rely on to stay by her side.

While she was watching her aide, the alarm on his com system lit up and sounded a long low bass note. Startled, Delenn stood and walked over to examine the panel of lights that Lennier was moving his hands over, trying to discern the source of the broadcast message.

Lennier explained, "It is the Ra'sh ta'al Quith, Delenn. It is being broadcast throughout this area of hyperspace, and it seems to originate from a White Star, on our course, but several hours behind us."

"Can you tell from where the ship set out?" she asked intently. There were a few White Stars still patrolling, outside of those in her fleet, and the ones she had left behind to help Susan guard the station.

"No, but if we let them get closer, I will be able to identify which ship it is." Lennier continued to manipulate the control panel in an attempt to gain the answers she sought.

"Did they not give their designation in the call?" Delenn tried to consider all the possible implications of this inopportune distress call.

"No, they did not, and that is extremely odd now that you mention it. Still, they are far away, and perhaps with the vagaries of hyperspace communication, they wanted to keep the message to the minimum required. We are obligated to answer…no Anla'Shok would send out such a call unless it was of vital importance." When Delenn did not respond immediately, Lennier wondered at her hesitation. Surely she was not considering going ahead, without offering aid and assistance? "It is a matter of honor, Delenn."

Finally, Delenn nodded, "I suppose we must wait and see who they are and what they want. Slow the ships to cruising speed, and allow them to catch up with us." She said to Lennier, "Contact me when they get close enough to open a link. Find out who they are, and Valen help them if it is not a serious matter. I will not be delayed for minor problems." She walked quickly to the open doorway leading off the bridge. Lennier stared after her thoughtfully.

Marcus had arrived on the bridge just as Delenn was leaving. The Ranger bowed to his superior and said, "Entil'zha," in respectful salutation, but received no response. Walking over to Lennier, Marcus observed the pattern of lights for a moment in startled surprise. "Someone is sending out the Ra'sh ta'al Quith? Who is it?"

"We do not know at this time. Delenn has slowed our speed to allow them to approach. They will be close enough soon to communicate more than just a signal, and close enough to identify soon after that. They seem to be moving quite quickly," answered Lennier. Then, hesitantly, and drawing Marcus aside so they could not be overheard, he said, "I am concerned about Delenn."

"And well you should be! She's been acting strangely ever since, well, ever since it happened. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised. They had apparently become quite close," said Marcus, trying to allay Lennier's concerns without rubbing in the painful fact of Sheridan and Delenn's relationship.

"I know that, of course. But she actually considered ignoring the distress call! She is obsessed with getting to Z'ha'dum and destroying it. What if, in the process, she destroys all that is herself?" Lennier's voice was strained, betraying his tension.

"I think you're overreacting. She's picked a course of action and is pursuing it. It's a desperate chance, but it is a chance. Better than waiting for them to come and blow us out of the sky." Marcus' tone was light, but his eyes were haunted. He was well aware that Babylon 5 was a target high on their enemy's list.

"I know that, but she's changed so much. She brooks no dissent, has no patience for delay…it is like all the warmth and happiness has drained out of her." There was a hint of sadness now, and perhaps some resentment.

"Is that so surprising?" Marcus considered his friend carefully, wondering how far to take this line of conversation. "She has lost a great deal."

"I know what she has lost!" Lennier's voice rose, and with difficulty he controlled himself and continued in lower tones. "She does not appear to be thinking clearly…this mission is not wise, or well thought out, in my opinion."

Just then the comscreen lit up with an incoming message. Lennier looked down, and sucked in his breath in surprise.

Marcus leaned over to see what was disconcerting the Minbari, and exclaimed, "What the hell?" He looked at Lennier, and declared, " I'll fetch Delenn. Best keep this quiet until we find out what exactly is going on." He hesitated, then asked, "Should we show her this in private?"

Lennier thought for a moment, then said, "No. Bring her here. It will be harder for her, but the crew deserves to know about this as well."

Marcus stared at him, "Do you honestly think she would keep it a secret?"

Shaking his head, Lennier answered quietly, "I do not know what she will do. And that is what concerns me."

When Delenn reached the bridge, the crew was quietly going about their business. Lennier, however, did not greet her, and did not meet her eyes. This was so unlike him, that it only added to her suspicions. Marcus' demeanour had been elaborately casual when he came to tell her she was needed. She took her seat, and said, "Well, what is this problem that demands my immediate attention?"

Lennier looked at Marcus, who took up a position next to Delenn. "We have received a message that followed the distress call. It is being broadcast on a frequency used by the White Stars, and presumably emanates from the same ship." He passed one hand, then another over the panel of glowing crystals. A holographic image appeared in the center of the bridge, directly in front of Delenn in the command chair. The two navigators seated ahead of the image, turned back to stare at it as they heard the words echo across the small area:

"This is Captain John Sheridan, commander of Babylon 5. I need to speak to any Anla'Shok vessel in the vicinity that can hear this message. Respond with your location on this frequency, and I will approach at best speed. This is an urgent call from Captain John Sheridan, please respond."

Lennier had not taken his eyes off Delenn, and he saw that Marcus was watching her closely as well. There was a long silence during which Delenn did not move or speak. Her face alabaster-white, and as immobile as stone.

Finally she said calmly, "I see. Let the vessel approach to within firing range, and destroy it."

Marcus started to protest, then Lennier broke in, "There was a coded message attached to this one on a sub-frequency. It is from Ventarr, who identifies himself as Anla'Shok captain of White Star 17, one of the ships left behind to guard Babylon 5. Shall I play it?"

Delenn didn't even look at him, "Go ahead."

Lennier moved one control lever, then touched a glowing blue crystal. A voice emanated from the panel in front of him; there was no accompanying image.

"Anla'Shok Ventarr, White Star 17. I wish to assure those watching that I have ascertained to the best of my ability that this is indeed the same human who went to Z'ha'dum, and that he speaks as himself. He has returned and requested our help in an urgent mission. I repeat, this is Anla'Shok Ventarr…"

"Shut it off."

Delenn's voice was cold and stark. She rose from her seat, and spoke to the air, "Lennier, Marcus, please join me in my quarters. I wish to discuss this turn of events with you."

The others on the bridge carefully keep their faces still, but the concern and curiosity was palpable. Lennier beckoned to one of them, indicating he should watch the com panel for more messages. He instructed the Minbari Ranger. "Let me know immediately if there is another attempt at contact."

Delenn had already left, but Marcus lingered to speak hastily with Lennier. "Will she fire on them? If there are Anla'Shok aboard?"

"As I said before, I no longer know what she will do. That has never been a problem in the past." Lennier shook his head. "'Understanding is not required, only obedience.' So we are taught in temple, but what happens when we understand, and cannot obey? When obedience conflicts with honor?"

"Do you think it's really the Captain? If he's been corrupted by Shadow, and has to be killed, what will that do to her?" asked Marcus.

"If it has to be done, it will be done. I would do it myself to spare her…" He broke off at Marcus' grim nod of agreement. "I would hope we can stop them short of that, but…" he hesitated. "This is difficult. I have come to doubt the wisdom of our mission, but had determined that obedience was the best course. Now I am flooded with doubt, and can no longer see my way."

"I'll help the best I can, but I'm as lost as you are. We are the blind leading the blind, I'm afraid." Marcus stepped up his pace, as Lennier moved ahead of him.

"Then let us hope our discussion shines a light on the path ahead," Lennier said solemnly.

They reached Delenn's quarters, and let her know they awaited admission. It took a few minutes for the door to open, and both of them wondered what she was doing in the interval…praying? Cursing the fates? They were unprepared for what they saw as they entered.

Delenn had set up a formal tea ritual, on a low ceremonial table set in the center of the floor. They entered, made the required ritual greetings, and seated themselves, cross-legged on the floor. She joined them, and poured the tea into five porcelain cups, white with a flush of pink inside. After the ritual offering of one to Valen, they all took a sip, and lowered the cups. Silence fell over the group.

"What are your thoughts?" asked Delenn finally.

Marcus looked down at the cup in his hands, but Lennier spoke up. "Do you think it is really Sheridan?"

Delenn said carefully, her voice controlled and level, "It could be, partially." She gently set her cup back down on the table.

Lennier replied, "Ventarr believes it to be him, and apparently unaltered by the enemy. It would be good to know what has convinced him of this."

Marcus shifted uneasily, then interjected, "What is the fifth cup for?"

"For the honored dead," answered Delenn calmly. "I have set it out at every ritual meal since…"

"Since he went away," asked Marcus gently.

"Yes," she answered.

"Then you think he is dead, that this message is from some sort of Shadow thrall or impostor?" asked Lennier.

"No one returns from Z'ha'dum!" she snapped at Lennier. The words tumbled out. "We know that, we have always known that! They would not let him go, and he would not work for them voluntarily and so it cannot be him." She stood abruptly and began to pace around the room. "They are using him against me the same way they used Anna Sheridan against him. They will pay for this, oh, they will pay! I cannot…I will not…" her voice stuttered to a stop, and she turned away, visibly trying to regain control.

Marcus said calmly, "I know Ventarr, served with him at one point. He knows the history of the Shadows as well as we all do. Yet he has been convinced this man is Sheridan. I think we should consider that he may be right."

Delenn was still facing away from Marcus, and he saw her stiffen as if she'd been struck. "That is not possible, Marcus. It's just not possible. We saw the planet, the destruction." Her voice trailed off, and she wrapped her arms around her own slim frame. Turning around, she asked Lennier, "What do you think, my friend? Could it be…could it be him?"

Lennier looked into his mentor's eyes, wide with a hint of panic behind them, and said, "I think we should wait until they draw near, and see for ourselves. We should send someone; I do not think we should allow anyone from that ship to board our vessel."

Delenn nodded. She looked for a moment as if she was recalling something, then her voice hardened once again. "Indeed we should not. Will you go, Lennier?"

It was hard to tell with the pale cast of Minbari skin, but Marcus thought Lennier blanched at the thought. That was a situation no one would relish; determining whether the lover of the woman you loved was back from the dead. What if he was an impostor, and Lennier found he had to kill the man, or whatever he was? "I'll go," he said abruptly. "I'm human, and I know Sheridan as well as anyone. And I know Ventarr; I'll be able to talk to him privately and see why he thinks this man is Sheridan."

"Thank you, Marcus." Delenn inclined her head, her attitude cool and controlled again.

Lennier watched her carefully. He stood, and approached her, coming to a stop in front of her.

"Did you have something else to say?" she asked coldly.

"I am sorry to ask you this, Delenn, but have you attempted the Aia'sa'dum?" Lennier spoke carefully, keeping his voice neutral.

She raised her chin, and said, "It is none of your concern what rituals I perform, is it?"

"No, it is not. I ask only in consideration of our friendship, which you referenced before." He kept his eyes focused on hers, evaluating her response.

Delenn returned to the table where Marcus had remained seated, and took her place, picking up the cup with her cooling tea. "Would you like some more tea, Marcus?" she asked, clearly changing the subject.

Marcus, uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking, asked, "Forgive me, Delenn, but I have never heard of the Aia'sa'dum. Would you take pity on my ignorance, and tell me what the ritual entails?"

Silent for a moment, but unable to refuse a civil request for information, Delenn answered evasively, "It is a Warrior caste ritual, and involves meditation and prayer as most of our rituals do."

Marcus was working out the translation of the unfamiliar phrase in his head, "And it means Heart's End? Or something to that effect? What is the purpose of the ritual?"

Looking steadily at the table, Delenn answered, "Warriors sometimes find themselves in a situation where they have been wounded, physically or psychologically, but still have to act. They can restrain their feelings, shrink them to the point where they become bearable, and so enable themselves to continue with their mission. I have found it helpful recently."

Marcus asked hesitantly, "This is a temporary thing, right? I mean, once we are past the crisis, you will be able to go back to how you were?"

"I have changed, that is the way of things. Besides, is it important?" Delenn spoke matter-of-factly. "This is a desperate mission, and I need to focus on it. My personal feelings are inconsequential in comparison with our goals."

"Separation of heart from mind can be dangerous," Lennier stated. "It can lead to error, and the inability to correctly judge a situation."

Delenn's hand tightened on her cup, and suddenly it cracked in her hand, driving shards of sharp ceramic deep into her hand. She absently looked at her bleeding hand, then picked out the larger pieces of the broken cup. She held her fingers outstretched over the table, and watched the blood drip from the cuts on her palm onto the tabletop. Watching them fall as if in echo to her dreams, she said, "I cannot afford to be blinded by emotion at this juncture. That error has already been made. I am attempting to correct it." She took the cloth napkin that Marcus held out to her, and wrapped her hand in it. "I need to act, not to feel. I have you two to help me judge this situation, although the final decision will be mine. Marcus, prepare a shuttle so you are ready to leave when White Star 17 is close enough for you to safely dock. I do not want to waste much time on this distraction. If this impostor is Shadow-tainted, he will attempt to learn about, and subvert our mission. That must not be allowed to happen." She rose, and indicated the interview was at an end. She remarked as they left, "It is possible that you may need to act quickly, Marcus. Take a personal link with a coded frequency that communicates directly with Lennier and myself. Be cautious. Take care."

A short while later, White Star 17 was close enough to receive a tightly focused short message, informing them what co-ordinates they should aim for, and to stop there and await a delegation from the fleet. No personal message was either sent or received in return. Delenn had ordered the rest of the fleet to move away, leaving her ship to confront the newcomers.

As the time approached for the rendezvous, Delenn remained in her quarters until the last moment. Finally she returned to the bridge and took her seat in the command chair. Marcus was in the shuttle bay already, on board with a Minbari pilot and two Rangers, prepared to depart when Ventarr's ship arrived. When the White Star appeared on the farthest edge of their screens, the tension began to mount. Delenn got up, and walked among the stations, speaking quietly with the crew members, reassuring them by her presence and calm demeanour.

Lennier watched her closely, but even he could see no evidence of agitation. This disturbed him greatly. She was at the forward navigation area when the com panel chimed and lit up with the incoming message. Lennier was occupied changing the code frequency setting so that he could receive the message, and so he missed her sudden start at the sound.

"White Star 17 is in communication range. Coding frequency has been sent and received; frequency will change at intervals set by protocol 9.2.9. Shall I put visual communications on screen?" Lennier looked at Delenn, awaiting her command.

Delenn waited for a split second, then answered, "Of course, Lennier. Open the link." She stood up very straight, and said to the empty air in front of her, "This is Entil'zha Delenn of the Minbari, commanding the White Star fleet. Go ahead."

The air wavered in front of her, and the image solidified into two people; a Minbari Ranger, presumably Captain Ventarr, and Sheridan. She bowed her head slightly to both, her eyes sliding past John's face, and coming to rest on the safety of the Ranger's image. "Captain Ventarr, we are sending a representative to ascertain the validity of this person's claims to be Captain Sheridan, returned from Z'ha'dum. His name is Marcus Cole, and he is Anla'Shok. I believe you may have met him. He will speak with you both, and then report back to me. Please extend him every courtesy, and in Valen's name, do not delay! We do not have much time. The longer we stay here, the more likely we will be found by the enemy."

"Yes, Entil'zha. I will be most glad to speak with Cole again. He was the best denn'bok fighter in our cohort at the Academy." He was approached from behind by someone, and said, "Excuse me for a moment." He turned away and was barely visible in the image. She had nowhere else to look, but at John.

"Delenn?"

It was his voice, the same deep husky voice she heard every night in her dreams, calling her name. Naturally, it would be the same. The structure of the vocal cords, the shape of his throat, and mouth, his lips; all were as they had been. She managed to look at him, or vaguely in his direction, and said coolly, "Yes?"

"I know this is hard, and that you can't be sure it's really me. I don't know how to convince you in any case, not this way, not at this distance. I'll speak to Marcus, tell him what happened. Maybe that will help." He paused and ran his fingers through his hair.

Delenn kept her face still. He was so very awkward and so very appealing. She raised her own hand to smooth her hair in an unconscious mirror of his gesture.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked, his voice suddenly filled with gentle concern.

"I..." she looked at her hand, still clumsily wrapped in Marcus' napkin, then held it to her breast. The bloodstains showed through the thin white cloth. "I cut myself. Earlier today."

"You should get that looked at."

He seemed to be concentrating on her injury; his hands fidgeting as if he wanted to be able to fix it, to do something, anything, for her. The small pieces of china that remained in the wounds grated together, biting into her flesh.

"It could get infected. Promise me you'll see the doctors after this."

She looked at him then, as if seeing him for the first time, and somehow choked out the words, "I promise."

"Good," he said simply, catching her eyes in his gaze, lingering there as if searching for some sign of recognition.

She was transfixed by a sudden flash of hope, a moment which threatened to stretch to eternity, when Ventarr returned to his side, and broke the connection between them.

"Cole's shuttle has docked, and he is being escorted to your quarters, Captain Sheridan."

"All right, let's get this over with." He turned back to Delenn, who was still holding her injured hand in the other one. "I hope to see you soon."

She couldn't help her reaction; warmth flooded her face, and she knew he could see her blush of helpless confusion. She suddenly became aware that she was surrounded by her own people, looking to her for guidance in this crisis, and that she was, once again, letting her emotions rule her head.

"Possibly, Captain, but not likely. I have other plans, and you have already delayed me more than is wise." Her voice had grown cold, and some distant part of her was pained to see the hurt in his eyes. She kept it at a distance, where it needed to be kept, and went on, "Tell Marcus we expect to hear from him within the hour. Make your case, but do not try to stop my mission. It would be futile to try." She looked back at Lennier, and said, "This conversation is over."

Marcus chatted casually with his escort on his way to Sheridan's quarters. He still had no clue what he was going to say to the man, and how he was going to tell if he was the real thing or not. Like many other difficult situations, it was probably best to play it by ear. Still, he found himself tensing as they paused outside the door to request admission.

"Hello, Marcus." John stayed seated behind the desk, but gestured towards a chair to one side. "Have a seat."

Marcus gathered up the ends of his long Ranger robe, and sat down, careful to leave ready access to his denn'bok. He scanned the room, locating doors and exits, and ascertaining no one else was in the room.

John sat back and smiled, "Go ahead and check the other room if you want. There's no one hiding in there."

Leaning back in his chair, Marcus said, smiling warily back, "I guess taking you at your word shows I've a preference for how this turns out."

John leaned forward on the desk, his hands flat on the surface, staring at the glistening steel as if he could find the answers to his questions etched on it, "Marcus, how is she?"

Marcus crooked one eyebrow, "How do you think?"

John said, frustration evident, "I don't know, do I? I want to go over there, and…well….Hell, I want to find out for myself! It feels like something's broken, in her or between us." He said, "I have to finish what's been started here, but it kills me to see her like this."

"Convince me you're you, and I'll convince Lennier, who's already halfway there due to his innate pessimism. We'll get her to meet with you, and you can make your case in person. It may be a while. After all, there's other little things to think about…the war with the Shadows, for instance…and the Vorlons newfound enthusiasm about it…and what the hell happened on Z'ha'dum!"

John straightened up and said, "You're right, but all I can do is tell you what happened, let you talk to Ventarr, and introduce you to…someone else that's involved." He went on, "I'm sorry, but there's no 'Made on Earth' sign stamped on my butt!"

Marcus had to laugh. "Please don't ask me to verify that! So, are you the one and only John Sheridan? If so, what the hell happened to you? I got back from Minbar to find you gone, everyone either in shock or despair…what were you thinking? Running off like that? Not that I didn't appreciate the grand gesture at the end. Quite the statement, nuking their homeworld."

John laughed, "I think I've missed you, Marcus! Everyone else is walking on eggshells around me. Susan's convinced it's me, but she's not sure why she's convinced. Garibaldi's suspicious, Stephen's accepting but confused, and Ventarr is treating me like the Second Coming!" He sighed, and began, "Let's get down to it." He laid out a succinct but fairly complete outline of everything that had happened after Anna had shown up in his quarters on the station.

When he'd finished, Marcus sat silently staring at him. Finally he said, "All right. That's a lot to take in at one time, and we don't have much time." He tapped his long fingers on the table in front of him, and said, "I want to talk to Ventarr now. Then maybe you can introduce me to Lorien. Why exactly did he come with you, by the way?"

"I…my condition is not quite stable yet. Lorien has to tag along for a while, to 'make corrections' is how he put it."

"What do you mean, not stable? Are you likely to fall down dead at any moment? Cause that would change my report considerably."

"I won't die anytime soon. Unless of course, the Shadows catch up with us and blow this ship out of the sky. Lorien's protection doesn't extend to catastrophic implosion."

Marcus looked at him shrewdly, "Anytime soon? Do you have an expiration date?"

Shifting uneasily in his chair, John looked at Marcus, "Can this stay between us, for now? I'm not sure how many people I want to know about it. I told Stephen, but he's bound by doctor-patient confidentiality."

"All right, I think I can promise that much. What? You _do_ have an expiration date?"

"Lorien says I have twenty years." John said shortly. "That's all he could do with what lifeforce I had left."

The words lay there between them, chill and stiff with truth. Marcus swallowed hard, not wanting to think about Delenn's reaction to that piece of news. Luckily, it wouldn't be his job to tell her. The man across from him suddenly looked incredibly tired, and he found refuge from the stinging in his eyes in the first inane question that occurred to him. "So, you're a zombie then?"

John looked up, confused. "What? What's a zombie?"

Marcus raised his arms straight in front of him, wrists limp, hands hanging loosely down. He moved them up and down. "A reanimated corpse? The walking dead?" He stopped for a moment, then asked, concerned, "Not a vampire, by any chance? Cause that would cause the quartermaster some problems." He looked thoughtful, "I wonder if vampires have to stick to blood of their own species? I mean, other species from the same planet might work, but what about aliens? Might give 'em a tummy-ache."

"What are you talkin_g_ about!" John roared in frustration. "I am _not_ dead, not any more! I'm alive enough to wring your neck if you mention one word of this…"

"All right, all right. I guess death didn't improve your temper any." Marcus smiled briefly, then asked, "Could you send for Ventarr now? He's probably hanging about outside, waiting to give me his version, not that it'll change my report. Then I have to talk to Delenn. Her temper's not of the best lately, either. You'll make a nice match there."

John stopped for a moment, then said tensely, "You said it wouldn't change your report…have you already come to a decision?"

Marcus stood up to leave, and waited for John to stand too. "I decided it was you when the very first question you asked was about Delenn. I don't think the Shadows could fake that high a level of suppressed anxiety." He extended his hand, and said, "Welcome back to the land of the living. Now let's see if we can both manage to stay here a while."

That was when they felt the explosive force of incoming blasts raking the ship. As klaxons sounded and red lights pulsed their warnings, the two men looked at one another, and headed simultaneously for the door.

The Shadow vessel appeared seemingly from out of nowhere directly in front of White Star One. Lennier started evasive maneuvers, and Delenn directed the other vessels to attack. Two other Shadow ships slipped into view, separating Delenn's ship and White Star 17 from the rest of the fleet. The telepaths were rushed into position to begin jamming any messages regarding the fleet: their numbers or exact location. This proved difficult given they were still in hyperspace, and telepathic projection was both enhanced and diffused in that environment. After the first few chaotic moments, Lennier noticed something, and cried out, "The enemy is targeting White Star 17! The other ships seem to be concentrating on holding off the rest of the fleet, protecting the first attacker."

Delenn stared at the viewscreen. Lennier was correct. All the firepower of the first ship was directed at the other White Star. Her ship was just as close, but they were not taking any hits. As she watched, the Shadow vessel fired, and fired again, targeting 17's engines with deadly efficiency.

"Why would they target one ship only? What is on that ship…." Her voice faded out as the realization hit her. "It's John." Agony laced her voice. "They're after John." She whirled around and shouted to the pilots at navigation, "Put us in between them! Now!" She strode to the com station and opened a link to the fleet. "White Stars 11 and 23, break loose and come around behind the main Shadow ship. Coordinate fire on my command."

Lennier looked over at her from the weapons station where he had taken up position. "We're too close, Delenn. If we fire along with the others, and destroy the Shadow ship, we will be in the path of its destruction. The other White Stars will be firing through the wreckage at us. They can't get a high enough angle to miss us."

"Then perhaps we will die, Lennier. Is that what you meant to say? Our ships will cease firing when the Shadow vessel begins to break up. They are well trained; we must trust their instincts…and their aim." She took her seat in the command chair. Other ships in the fleet had drawn fire to themselves so 11 and 23 could slip into position. Delenn watched the screen, trying not to notice the fires breaking out all over 17, and said steadily, "On my mark….Fire!"

Jets of green and white fire poured from all three White Stars, pinning the Shadow vessel between them. The ship twisted and writhed in the beams, firing off bursts of purple rays which raked the White Stars.

"We are hit," said Lennier, keeping the pulsing bursts of gunfire aimed directly on the belly of the Shadow ship looming above them, even as sparks flew out of the weapons array under his hands. The pattern of oily black whorls on the ship's surface shifted and coalesced, like the ship was trying to wriggle out of the deadly pincers of fire. Finally, the Shadow vessel started to crumple and collapse into dust. The other White Stars cut their fire, but not quickly enough. A few final bursts hit the bridge; from friend or enemy it was impossible to tell. Delenn didn't even have time to glance at the screen before the world exploded in smoke and flame.

Marcus and John got to the bridge just after Ventarr, and found themselves for once observing rather than acting during a battle. It quickly became apparent that they were the main target, and John realized angrily that he was probably the reason. Apparently he was not the Shadow's favorite person right now. He watched helplessly as Ventarr smoothly maneuvered his ship to fire and dodge and fire again. They were hit, multiple times, but the last burst stopped them cold. The engines were out, and they were drifting with only minimal thrusters to shove them along slowly, and only in one direction. Ventarr looked back at Marcus, and shrugged, "I'd hoped we would have some time to reminisce, Cole. It seems it is not to be."

"You never know, Ventarr." Then he said abruptly, "What the hell is she doing?" Marcus pointed at the main viewscreen, where Delenn's White Star had appeared, taking up a position between them and the Shadow ship.

"Put me through to her, Ventarr! She can't make this work!" shouted John.

"Communications went down at the beginning of the attack. All we can do is watch." answered Ventarr calmly. "Entil'zha veni."

"Entil'zha veni," replied Marcus, eyes fixed on the unfolding battle.

John watched in horror as the Shadow vessel crumpled under the combined fire of the White Stars, showering Delenn's ship with chunks of debris. Then the last bursts of light from her fellow ships shot through the now-empty space and raked her vessel, tearing great holes in the organic skin of the ship, which spurted white hot gouts of flame.

The silence after a battle ends is all-consuming. Noise continues to fill the air; shouted commands, muted explosions, fires being extinguished, the moans of the wounded; yet it is silent, for the guns have stopped their deadly cacophony. It's as if the brain cannot process more noise, and shuts down its capacity to hear anything.

John walked around the bridge, lifting fallen equipment out of the way, shoving debris off of control panels, speaking with the crew. All the while he was stealing glances at the screen, watching for a shuttle or lifepod, listening for the chirp of a com link being re-established. He jumped when Marcus touched his arm and said, "Come on. Ventarr says the shuttle is undamaged. Let's go see what happened."

"What if their docking bay is inoperable?"

"Only one way to find out. We can always try docking with one of the other ships; maybe they still have com links to hers."

"But we've got no way of requesting access to the bays!"

"White Star shuttles have emergency back-up docking frequencies; no verbal or visual communications, but a simple SOS type request for access. Never used it before, but I'm assured it'll work," answered Marcus.

"Don't they need our help here?" John made one final token protest as he headed for the door.

"Unless you're a medic, or an engineer, I don't think so. They say it'll be hours before communications is fixed. I can't wait that long, can you?" Marcus said as he trotted to keep up.

"It already feels like I've been waiting forever," said John.

Aboard White Star One, the mood was eerily calm. The crew bent towards their repairs, setting the automatic systems to work, and clearing debris and tending to the wounded. Most of this was occurring in other areas of the ship. Delenn sat on the floor of the bridge behind the shattered weapons station. There were only a few people working on the bridge; and those were giving her space and time to herself. She noticed idly that her hand was bleeding again, but then, blood was everywhere, pooled on the deck, smeared across her dress, dotting her boots. She was waiting for the medics to arrive to attend to Lennier, who was lying by her side, unconscious. No one had seen what happened to him; and she was afraid to move him to see if any of the blood had come from him. So she waited. The other two Shadow ships had disappeared when the first one was destroyed. She was afraid they had taken the news back to some nearby base. Communications were still out, but a shuttle from White Star 11 had arrived with assistance. She had sent them on to 17 to see how things were there. Once she'd set everything in motion, she'd allowed herself the luxury of collapsing beside Lennier, trying to wait patiently, and to think.

It had seemed clear that the Shadows were targeting White Star 17 for a reason, and the only reason that made sense was that they were targeting John. She'd acted instinctively to save him. There was still a possibility that it was some sort of a trick, a ploy to get them to accept a spy, a traitor, into their councils. Hope had taken root in her and she was having trouble trying to remain logical in the face of its rapid growth. She shook her head, hoping to focus her thoughts. The air was finally clearing as the ship's ventilation system kicked in; and the mixed sweet and acrid smell of burning was fading.

Lennier woke to pain, and confusion. Lying prone on the deck, he found staring up at the ceiling extremely disorienting. As memory flooded back, he turned his head to seek out Delenn. He didn't have to look far; she was sitting beside him, a little apart. Her knees pulled up under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs, she looked like a small child lost in thought. Pain lanced through him as he moved, and he couldn't entirely stifle a soft moan.

"You are awake." She was looking at him now, slightly anxious, mostly pleased to see him conscious.

"I am. Are you hurt? What is our condition?" He attempted to look around the bridge, but his head throbbed with even that slight movement.

"I am fine, but you are to lie still. The medics tell me you are next in line for further ministrations." Delenn sighed. "The ship is operable, but damaged. Two of the gravitic propulsion units were hit. There were many injuries in engineering. Our com systems remain non-functional, and we are sending and receiving information by courier. The other two Shadow ships got away. So, we dare not linger here for long."

"And Ventarr's ship? Sheridan, and Marcus? Have we news of them?" Lennier asked.

"Not yet. I have sent over a shuttle to ascertain their status. We should hear back shortly, even sooner if we can restore communications." Delenn's voice remained steady, but the effort it took her showed.

"I should help with that." Lennier made a motion as if to sit up, but fell quickly back as his muscles would simply not hold him. "Perhaps not."

"Perhaps it would be wiser to obey me, and lie still."

"Perhaps it would." Lennier lay silent for a moment, wondering if he dare ask more. There didn't seem to be anyone near enough to hear, so he ventured a question. "Delenn, have you come to a decision regarding Sheridan's identity? Or are you waiting for Marcus to report back?"

She leaned forward, looking down at the floor. Her hair fell forward to hide her face. "I have not. At least…my heart tells me one thing, and my head another. I do not trust either at this point."

"Ah," replied Lennier succinctly. Then, "Have you considered that you may know the answer when you see him? That all may become clear at that point?"

"It is possible." She hesitated, then continued, "Have you ever heard the human saying 'Love is blind'?"

"Not until this moment. It's a peculiar thought, and goes against what little I know of the emotion." Lennier wondered at this turn in the discussion.

"What makes you say that?" Delenn asked curiously.

"In my admittedly limited experience, many emotions make perception difficult; infatuation, obsession, hatred, despair- those are blinding. Love, however, is clear-sighted. It is what is left after you see through the masks and surfaces. That is why the sleep-watching ritual is so important." Lennier broke off, consideringly, "I have often wondered why the ritual is only for females. Is it not important for the male to know the true face of the female as well?"

Delenn laughed out loud, the first time she had done so in a long while. "That is an excellent point! I have no idea why it is so. You must research the matter when we return; you could write it up for publication."

Lennier was happy to have made her smile, but felt distinctly uncomfortable discussing this particular topic with her. Considering his feelings for her, it cut a little close to the bone. Still, she seemed to need to discuss these matters, and he wanted to be there for her, as always. Changing the subject slightly, he asked, "Have you paused in your pursuit of the Aia'sa'dum?"

"I do not think I am particularly adept at that ritual." She sighed, "It seems I must find another way."

He fell silent at that, not wishing to say aloud all the things he was thinking. Then the medics arrived, and he was kept busy answering the questions they had for him. Delenn stood up, but stayed near him, looking over at him and keeping watch as she also listened to progress reports, and gave out directives to an increasing stream of crew members coming to her for consultation.

Once Lennier was taken off, over his protests, to the sickbay for further tests and treatment, she found herself feeling lost and tired. Looking down at her stained clothes, she decided to take some time to change. She told the technicians working on the com station to let her know when it was fixed, and headed for her quarters. Once there, she put on fresh robes and washed what dust and blood she could from her face and arms. Taking off the now grimy cloth that covered the cuts on her hand, she cleaned the wounds as best she could, and looked about for something to bind them. She found nothing really suitable, and resorted to a clean cloth napkin again. Fumbling with the ends, trying to tie them, she absently called out 'Open' when the chime at her door rang.

"Delenn?"

Startled she looked up, dropping the cloth to the floor.

Marcus and Sheridan stood in the doorway. Marcus grinned at her, pushed Sheridan inside unceremoniously, and called out, "It's him, all right!," before backing out, and closing the door on them. "Shortest report I've ever made," he muttered to himself. Grabbing a passing security officer, he stationed him in front of the door to Delenn's quarters. "Stay here. No one goes in until you clear it with me." The Ranger looked at him questioningly, and Marcus put his hand first over his eyes, then his ears, then his mouth. "You see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. Got it?" The Minbari nodded, obedient but uncomprehending.

Marcus walked off, saying to himself, "I guess my work here is done. Now to find poor old Lennier and break the good news to him."

They stood there, stunned by the suddenness of the reunion neither had ever expected to happen. John walked towards her, bent down, and picked up the makeshift bandage.

"Here, let me do that." He ripped the fabric to make longer ends to tie, then gently wound it around her hand. "You haven't gotten that tended to yet, have you?"

Delenn shook her head, speechless for moment. "I've been otherwise occupied," she finally said, in shock at how her doubts were melting away in his presence.

Smiling slightly, he replied as he finished, "Battlefield first aid. It's been a while since I had to do any of that."

"Not quite a battlefield," she answered. "More of a skirmish. Most of the fleet is intact; only two ships badly damaged, and another three with minor problems."

"So what exactly was your plan of action?" John asked seriously.

Delenn replied, equally seriously, "I was following your plan of action. I planned to blow up their homeworld. A psychological blow, if you will."

"I see. And if I said I have another plan?"

"I would listen."

"Then…" He was standing very close, but not touching any part of her but the injured hand he still held in his own. "You're sure now? You're sure I'm me?" As she smiled up at him, he felt once again like he was falling. This time, and for all time, he knew she would be there to catch him. He could never figure out how she did that, send him reeling and steady him, both at the same time, all with just a smile.

She reached up to touch his jawline, drawing one finger along it, sending a shiver up his spine. "I am sure."

Her voice had dropped in register, ending in a soft exhalation. Slowly he drew her into his embrace, trying to draw out the feeling of exquisite rightness as she fit herself into his arms.

Her eyes fixed on his, she gently touched his cheek, in solemn wonder. "I thought I would never see you again."

His arms tightened around her, enfolding her within them. "I'll never leave you, Delenn."

She slid her hand behind his neck, then around his shoulders, pulling them even closer together. "You cannot promise me that."

"I can, and I will. I have no desire…"

"None?" she asked, sliding her hand down his back, following the curve of his spine to its base, and further.

"No desire to leave you, or even this room at the moment," he said hoarsely, pulling her tight against him. His lips were almost touching hers. He could feel the soft pulse of her breath against his cheek, as she whispered.

"Then stay with me tonight. I find I have no desire…to be alone."

His answer did not come in words, but the meaning was clear. There are ways of speaking without words, and hearing without sound, and seeing without sight. And while love can indeed be blind, it can also see more deeply into the heart than any eye or instrument.

That night, Delenn did not dream of falling.

**Blind-**

by Lifehouse

(partial and rearranged) lyrics

_I would fall asleep  
Only in hopes of dreaming  
__That everything would be like it was before  
But nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting  
They disappear as reality is crashing to the floor _

_My love for you was blind  
But I couldn't make you see it  
I couldn't make you see it  
I loved you more than you will ever know  
A part of me died when I let you go_

_I watched helpless as you turned around to leave  
Still I have the pain that I have to carry  
A past so deep that you could not bury it if you tried_

_My love for you was blind  
But I couldn't make you see it  
I couldn't make you see it_

_My love for you was blind  
_


	2. Rebels

**A Day Late 2: Rebels**

_Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words._

* * *

Susan Ivanova, acting commander of the Babylon station, walked quickly towards the main Security offices. Garibaldi had sent her an urgent summons, and as much as it cut into her hectic day, she didn't want to ignore it. The last ten days had been the worst of her life, even worse than the month that preceded them. She had thought it would all come back together when John had miraculously returned from Z'ha'dum, alive, and ready to lead them into battle against their enemies. Unfortunately, he'd left almost immediately, to follow Delenn and to stop the fleet from attacking the Shadow's homeworld. Before he'd gone, he had spoken with what remained of the League worlds' representatives. They had been impressed, and seemed to be considering rejoining the Alliance Sheridan and Delenn had been assembling. A few ships had even returned, and combined with the two Minbari war cruisers, and the few White Stars Delenn had left; she'd begun to hope that the station would have a chance in any further attack.

Then the Shadow ships had arrived.

They'd appeared out of nowhere, three of them circling the station, screeching their battle cries or whatever that hellish noise was. She'd scrambled the StarFuries, and was ready to start the uphill fight, when a message had come in, broadcast without the benefit of the station's comsystem. They wanted to talk.

The voice of the Shadows slid down your spine like a cold knife just splitting the skin. She'd spoken to them from C&C, listening to their proposal with disbelief. They wanted to make her an offer. It was Sheridan they wanted; not the station, not the ships guarding it, not the people on board. They had followed him here, but the traces of so many ships entering and leaving through the gate had confused the trail. All they wanted was a direction, a pointer as to where to find the Captain, and in return they would guarantee the safety of the station and its inhabitants.

She's refused, of course. What she hadn't expected was the reaction of the others, especially that of her fellow officer and friend, Michael Garibaldi.

Michael pulled her aside, and said in an urgent whisper, "Susan, you've got to tell them!"

She'd stared at him a moment in shock, then whispered back, "Are you crazy? I can't just tell them where the Captain's gone…which would of course also send them after Delenn and the fleet! Besides, the Vorlons are blasting away at any allies of the Shadows…we'd be leaving ourselves open to their attacks!"

"I know that, but the Shadows are sure to guess where they went anyway. Why shouldn't we protect ourselves and the people here with a little information sharing? The Vorlon ambassador is off station right now, and this doesn't have to get back to his little spy Lyta. It's not like the Captain and Delenn have shown any great concern about what happens back here. We don't even know if they are coming back. Maybe they're taking off to hide out in Minbari space; the Minbari are mostly uninvolved in the war, aren't they?"

His voice had risen, and the crew was obviously taking in the discussion with interest. This had to stop before she had a split in the ranks to contend with. "Michael, stop this. That's an order! This is my decision, and there isn't time for discussion. There certainly isn't room for disagreement!"

She announced in a loud voice, "No deal."

"Very well," the voice sounded brusque and impatient. "We will leave you now, but the offer will remain open. If you would offer us assistance, or at the least no resistance, we would spare you."

The ships had simply blinked out of sight, leaving behind only a wavering after-image on the screens. A cold bead of sweat ran down her back, and she fervently prayed that if they did return, she'd have a little more firepower and a lot more support to fight them off.

Things had gone from bad to worse after the confrontation. The rumours concerning the offer of guaranteed safety, at least from one set of combatants, had spread through the station with incredible speed. It was obvious that half her staff disagreed with her, and all the civilians were scared witless and more than willing to deal with the devil. Small acts of sabotage and disruption sprouted up all over the station. Security was having trouble keeping a lid on things. Finally, after a spate of violent crimes in Downbelow spilled over into the main areas of the station, capped by a gang who'd obtained black market weapons holding a group of shopkeepers hostage for 24 hours, she'd been forced to declare martial law to regain control. It had worked, and the last few days had been more peaceful. Garibaldi had backed her in that decision. He'd had his forces suited up and armed within hours of her announcement, and had blanketed the station with them. It had given her some breathing space to deal with all the other problems that came at her from all sides now.

Susan sighed; it would be so much easier if John were here. Her job had always been implementation; he made the decisions and she made them work. Now she was playing both roles and it was taking a toll. She'd been relying on Garibaldi taking up some of the slack, but he'd been alternately sullen and withdrawn, and largely uncooperative, except in the implementation of martial law four days ago. He continued to downplay the amount of tension and in-fighting that had sprung up across the station, even among their own people.

Rubbing one temple, in an attempt to relieve the sudden headache that had sprung up behind her left eye, she wondered if she had time to stop by MedLab for some painkillers, and decided she probably didn't. She was still squinting from the pain when she turned the corner into the Security office and found herself facing three guards with drawn PPGs, aimed straight at her. Behind her, she heard the door close, and Garibaldi's voice say, "Sit down, Susan. Over there."

Crossing the floor to the chair in front of the viewscreens that covered the public areas of the station, as well as vital function areas, Susan sat down carefully on the edge of the seat. "What's going on?" Trying to lighten the grim mood of the guards, she looked at them and said, "You guys really want that extra vacation day put back in your contract, don't you?"There was no answering smile from either, and she turned her attention to Garibaldi. "So, you going to answer me, or do we play twenty questions until I figure it out? What is this all about?" Trying to keep a rein on her temper, she kept her voice low and conversational. They taught you all this in the Academy, but she was pretty sure hostage negotiation wasn't supposed to happen when you were the hostage.

"Susan, I'm sorry." Garibaldi's face was grim. "But you're getting us deeper and deeper into this mess, and I just can't stand by and watch it anymore. There are too many innocent people on this station, and we need to get them out of the line of fire."

"I'm doing everything I can to protect the civilians, Michael! More and more League ships have called in and said they are going to come back…the fleet is taking shape! It may even be ready when the Captain and Delenn get back…"

"That's exactly what I mean! Assembling the fleet here is painting a big fat target on the station. And when you all take off to carry out Mr. Back-from-the-Dead's plan; you'll leave all these people here, stuck, unable to get away. A few StarFuries and a random White Star or two won't cut it when the Shadows come calling. Not to mention the Vorlons!" Garibaldi leaned over the chair, his hands gripping the arms, his face inches from hers. "This is not…going…to work, Susan! It's crazy! We could barely stop the Shadows! How can we fight them both?" He pushed the chair away from him, sending her bumping against the far wall, and stalked about the room. "No, this station has to be taken out of bounds. The members of the League who rebelled against Delenn's fleet had the right idea. We need to be neutral in this. We've had an offer from one side; maybe if we go with that, we can convince the Vorlons we're sincere in staying out of the whole thing."

"Neutral!" Susan cried. "You're the one who's crazy! Neither the Shadows or the Vorlons have honored any protest of neutrality or non-combatant status. They've both happily slaughtered civilians with no mercy and apparently no concern! What makes you think they'll care about your 'neutrality'!"

"It's a better plan than poking them in the eye!"

"No, it's not!" Susan started to rise from the chair, but one of the guards gestured towards her with his weapon and she sank slowly back down in her seat. "And what about Earth? You think Clark will honor your position? Who's going to protect you from your own government?"

"Maybe we don't need protecting from Earth…or maybe we can play them all off against each other. I don't know!" Garibaldi said in frustration. Then he added with frost in his voice, "But I do know I don't trust Sheridan anymore, and I definitely don't trust that alien he brought back from Z'ha'dum. For all we know, that guy's the leader of the Shadows or…maybe he's their mortal enemy! Who knows? I don't like being kept in the dark, and I don't like being asked to take everything on faith. I'm not you."

Susan shook her head, and said, "No, you're not. What are you going to do?"

Garibaldi almost smirked at her. "I've got the only armed force on the station, and they're loyal to me. Well, mostly. A few we've had to lock up in the cells. It'd be easier if we did this with your cooperation…"

"When Hell freezes over." Susan was gripping the arms of her chair. This was a nightmare.

Garibaldi smiled grimly, "I figured that. Well, you can join them in the cells. I plan to call a meeting of the junior staff and explain the situation to them. Some will see things my way, hopefully enough to run the place. Then we'll send out messengers, to the warring parties, explaining our new position. We'll contact Earth too. I don't want to surrender our independence right now, but we can start negotiations to move that direction."

Susan stared at him. "This'll never work, Michael. John and Delenn will be back soon, with a fleet of ships to take it all back."

Garibaldi laughed softly, "I'm not you, remember? We've got a quarter of a million hostages here." He crossed his arms tightly and went on, "It's for their own good, really. They'll be safer this way. You're playing a weak hand, Susan. You couldn't keep the League here after Sheridan left before; you won't be able to now, not for long. The doubts will return long before Sheridan does. Besides, would he attack the station? Really?" He shook his head, "Not him. They'll have to find someplace else to play war. From now on, Babylon 5 is off limits to Sheridan, and everyone who follows him."

Delenn woke at an odd angle, tilted, but not the traditional 45 degrees. Her bed was both softer and harder than normal, agreeably warm, and rising and falling in a gentle rhythm which was echoed in her own heartbeat. She moved closer, pressing her body up against his, and shifted her head so she could feel his pulse, reassuringly steady, under her cheek. John had refused to even try the narrow tilted bed in her quarters, and they'd ended up sleeping on the floor.

In all honesty, the sleeping part had come much later in the evening.

After a sadly brief interlude to themselves, the interruptions had started. Progress reports on the repairs to her ship, and the others in the fleet, came in over the com. Ventarr's report on his ship had included a cryptic message from the alien Lorien, whom she had yet to meet. John listened to the message, and his face clouded over, becoming tense and stern. Her heart stuttered momentarily in dismay. He'd refused to discuss what was bothering him, forcing a smile and saying that he had better things to do at the moment. She filed away her questions for later, and happily let herself be distracted again.

The chime at the door had rung at one point, and when they opened it, they found only a tray on the floor, with two meals on it, and a note in Marcus' handwriting that read 'Room service. Courtesy of The Management. Don't forget to tip the staff!' John had laughed at loud at that, and she'd had to kiss him then, even before the door closed. She couldn't resist the way his face lit up, crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes, his lips curving upward and lifting her heart up with them.

There was another break when the healer arrived to tend to her hand. It hadn't taken long. Some of the cuts were deep, but it was too late to safely laser-stitch them closed. A kind of breathable glue was used to seal the wounds, which also let air in to aid in healing and prevent sepsis. John told her afterwards that they used to use something called butterfly sutures for this kind of injury. That somehow led to a discussion of butterfly kisses, and the subsequent demonstrations carried them along to the next interruption.

Finally it was late enough that she called the bridge and told them no more calls were to be put through for anything short of a Shadow fleet or a Vorlon planet-killer. John added under his breath that they had better be damn sure of either or preferably both.

Silence fell over the room, as Delenn walked carefully about the small space, lighting every candle she had. Shadows danced around her, and for a moment she shivered. Instantly John was behind her, his warm bulk a shield against her momentary apprehension. She leaned back into him, letting go of fear and pain and doubt, taking strength in his sheltering embrace. Turning in his arms, she lifted her face to his, meeting him halfway in a fierce kiss that burned with mutual desire. In between kisses, they removed each other's clothes, laying claim to each other with eyes and hands, fingers and lips.

John threw the softest of their clothing onto the floor, covering them with a silken white robe. He slowly knelt in front of her, kissing his way down her body, making her shake with the effort to remain standing under the ministrations of his hands and mouth. She leaned over to stroke his broad shoulders, and he turned his face up to capture a kiss. Her hair was falling all around him, and he took hold of her hands, gently tugging her down onto the floor beside him.

Increasing intense caresses swiftly gave way to all-consuming passion which threatened to engulf them both, and it took John some effort to pull back from her. He raised up on one elbow, facing her, and said, his voice ragged with desire, "I don't know all your traditions, Delenn. We've done this only once before, and that night…" He swore under his breath as pain filled her eyes. Cupping her cheek in his hand, and looking directly into her eyes, he said emphatically, "That night was magic. Don't let what happened afterwards take away the memories."

Tears wet her lashes, and she turned her face into his palm and kissed it.

He continued gently, "I just need to be sure you want this, now."

She stretched up one hand and lightly outlined his lips with her fingertips, "We made our own magic that night, didn't we?" Reaching around behind his head, her fingers meshed in his short, soft hair, and she pulled him back down to her, whispering as she did, "I am sure. This is what I want. Let us make some new memories."

As the light came up slowly in her quarters, indicating that a new day cycle was beginning, Delenn was still sure. It was not in keeping with Minbari traditions, but she was no longer wholly Minbari, and besides, she had come so close to losing him. She knew she was rationalizing what would be considered scandalous behavior by her clan and caste, but at the moment she no longer cared.

Previously, she had been determined to follow her traditions to the letter, so that no shadow would hang over her bonding with John. She had delayed and denied her own feelings until she no longer could. After succumbing to her own desire that second night of the sleep-watching ritual, the aftermath had almost seemed like a punishment, for that, and all her myriad errors. Now all that seemed irrelevant.

Deep in the night, he had told her what happened on Z'ha'dum; that he had fallen, and that he had died. The news had sounded like the deep tolling of a bell in her chest. She had forgotten to breathe as he went on, telling her of Lorien, and his efforts to bring him back and how he had clung to the thought of her…how she had brought him back to life, and to love. He had thanked her; and forgiven her, and she hadn't known what to say. She was the cause of his death, and his reason for living, all at the same time. It had all seemed too much to bear, and so she took refuge in physical expression of her love. Words were no longer adequate. It seemed best to say nothing at all.

There, she was crying again. It seemed involuntary, a reaction that she could no longer control.

"Hey, what's going on?"

His gentle query stroked her with a feather light touch. "I don't know. I seem prone to tears lately." She tried to sound a logical note, "It is not like me."

"You've been through a lot lately. Don't beat yourself up over it." John wriggled his arm out from under her, and luxuriously stretched both arms over his head. "Personally, I'm feeling pretty good this morning."

She ran her hand over his chest, and down his body, "You do feel good at that."

Laughing, he replied, "No one ever told me Minbari were so, um, insatiable. Sexually, I mean."

"Are we?" she answered, an arch look on her face. "Perhaps we should test this theory. I do not think it has been given enough attention in the past."

He rolled over to face her, and asked seriously, "What part of you hasn't gotten enough attention? Tell me; I can't believe I missed much last night."

She began to laugh, and continued as the door chimed. "I will make you a list for future reference. Now I have to find enough clothing to answer the door with propriety."

"The door demands propriety?" answered John, as he fished through the pile of clothing for a outer robe for her to don. He stood, and held it for her to put on, and whispered in her ear, "Don't let them know you're wearing nothing underneath; it'll be our secret."

She started to protest, then blushed as she realized he was teasing, and walked towards the door. She seemed unable to stop smiling this morning. As she neared it, she called back, "Perhaps you should look to your own propriety?"

He grabbed the rest of the clothes on the floor, and disappeared into the bath. She was still laughing as she opened the door. It was a messenger from Ventarr's ship. Lorien had been brought on board, and wished to speak with Captain Sheridan.

They gathered around the oval table in the small conference room; Delenn noted that John was sitting next to Lorien, and conferring closely with him while the other took their seats. Ventarr had accompanied Lorien, and Marcus had joined them.

John spent little time introducing and explaining Lorien to the others. The discussion ranged from how much more time was needed for repairs, how long it would take to return to the station, and speculation on how the fleet that Susan was in charge of assembling was coming. The ideological basic of the conflict was revealed, with some skepticism voiced by both Ventarr and Marcus as to whether this was truly the root of the matter. Delenn sat in silence, watching and listening rather than speaking. It was somewhat intimidating to be in the presence of what appeared to be the first First One, and she studied him covertly, wondering what was his true purpose. She flushed when the alien's yellow eyes met hers, holding his glance steady while she looked down in embarrassment.

John noticed Lorien's gaze and looked at her questioningly, "Did you have a question, Delenn?"

Hesitating for only a moment, she said, "I have nothing but questions, it seems. Why is Lorien here? What does he propose to do regarding the war?" She looked at John, possible implications tumbling through her head.

"He is…important to my plans. I can't go into more detail at this point. You'll have to trust me on this," John replied, confident in her backing, and that of the others.

Ventarr nodded his assent immediately.

"Good enough for now," Marcus said, "But we'll need a little more detail when it comes to actual strategy, you know."

"When we get back to the station, Marcus. We need to get everyone together quickly. There isn't much time," said John.

"Yes, quite," said Marcus shortly. He added, with an intense look, and an odd tone in his voice. "Time is of the essence, Captain."

John gave the human Ranger a sharp look, then shared an enigmatic glance with Lorien. These exchanges caught Delenn's attention, and increased her uneasiness. There was something going on that was being left unspoken; some knowledge that Lorien, John, and Marcus shared. A chill ran down her spine. She'd told Jeff Sinclair once about that feeling; the feeling that someone was walking across your grave. She didn't like it, and she disliked even more the idea that they were hiding something from her.

There was a chime from the wall monitor. Marcus stood, and walked over to answer the call. The communications officer announced that a White Star had been sighted, and was bearing a message from Babylon 5. It would arrive within the hour.

Zack Allan rubbed his eyes as he walked into the mess hall. It seemed months ago that the Captain had gone to Z'ha'dum and disappeared. It was only two days since Chief Garibaldi had taken command of the Babylon station from her, and he'd been working for 36 hours straight. He was in desperate need of some caffeine. Looking around, he spotted Lou Welch sitting by himself at one of the round tables. He made his way through the thin crowd of off-duty crew members. Some of the pilots and junior command staff stared at him hostilely, their eyes burning a hole in the back of his EarthForce jacket. He'd been wondering why he bothered to put on the uniform anymore; he'd participated, however reluctantly, in a mutiny.

Of course it wasn't his first mutiny; that had been under Captain Sheridan, when they'd declared independence from Earth. They'd kept the uniform, and ranks, and chain of command then as well. The suspension of their pay hadn't been pleasant, but the Captain and Ivanova had busted their asses to get traffic moving, and credits flowing into the station again. Meanwhile, they'd set up a system of chits that covered most basic expenses. A lot of the guys were worried about their pensions, invested back on Earth. The ones who had family back home that they sent money to were even more upset. Still, they'd all pulled together. A few resigned and left the station, but most had stayed. They'd filled in the gaps in Security with the Narns under G'Kar's direction.

"Hey Lou," he said as he reached the table. "How's it going?"

"I'm alive and kicking, Zack. What more could a guy want?" answered the crusty older man.

"A guy could want some proper coffee. Remember coffee, Lou? Hot and black and strong enough to jump start the dead?" Zack laughed bitterly. They hadn't seen coffee in years; it was still a rare delicacy on Earth, and you just couldn't get it out this far. Tea just didn't do the job for him.

"Yeah well. I couldn't afford the good stuff even when it was around," Lou gestured to the seat next to him. "Pull up a chair."

"I'll just go get something to drink. Be right back." Zack ambled over to the row of urns set up on the side. He picked a dark fermented tea with a jolt of extra caffeine added. It was the best he could do. Sighing, he walked up to the counter to look at what passed for sandwiches. These days it seemed the best he could do wasn't near good enough. Before he'd went off-shift, he'd tried talking once more with the Chief.

"Zack, I tell you I know what I'm doing, and I'm getting kind of tired of telling you that over and over again." The frustration, bordering on anger, pulsed through Garibaldi's voice. "It's under control."

"It is not under control!" Zack tried to modulate his voice, lowering it to a confidential sympathetic tone. "The Narns are getting restless. They signed up to do security, and are following G'Kar's instructions to follow your orders, for now. But they know something's wrong…they know Ivanova was left in charge. They keep asking when she's coming back, and when G'Kar's coming back. They've heard the rumours about Sheridan's return, too, just like all the others…"

"Well, you can just stop those rumors for one thing. We don't know who, or what, came back from Z'ha'dum!"

"I know what I saw. And I know Ivanova believed it was the Captain."

"She'd have believed anything by then. She was desperate. I think she suspected something was wrong; look how fast she got him off the station!"

Zack ran his hand through his hair, and tried again. "She believes…" he stopped at Garibaldi's suspicious look, "I mean, she believed it was him." He had to be careful; he was not supposed to be in contact with the Commander. "Look, what are we going to do about the ships that keep coming in to join the Captain's fleet?"

"I don't know." Garibaldi slumped back into his chair. He'd kept his office in the Security Office. He had designated some of the command staff on his side to run Ops out of C&C. He hated going up there; it reminded him of simpler times. He exclaimed, "They keep asking to come! They've heard the stories, and now they want to join up. From what I've heard, Susan and Delenn couldn't pay them to stick around before!"

"That's always the way, isn't it?" Zack said sympathetically. He hesitated, then plunged back in, "Rumor has it that Earth has been in contact with you."

Garibaldi's eyes narrowed, "There are entirely too many rumors on this station. Yeah, they have. What of it?"

"You know what would happen to Ivanova if you let them back in here?"

Garibaldi looked uncomfortable. "I won't let anything happen to her, Zack. That's not what this is about."

Zack lost it at that. "Yeah, well, what is it about? It's not about the war, it's not about Earth…you told me you agreed with the decision to declare independence, to fight back against Clark! Now you're negotiating with him? What makes you think you'll have any say in what happens to any of us! Sheridan, Ivanova, me, you, anybody!"

"You've had your say. Again. Now get out; I've got work to do." Garibaldi said coldly.

"I'm going. I just can't get over the feeling that you're making a mistake. I just…"

"I said get out of here. Do I have to call someone to escort you?"

Zack looked at him. "I don't know you anymore, you know? The Captain came back, and it was him, you could tell. You came back, and, well, you've changed. The sad thing is, you don't even see it."

He'd left it at that, his suspicions unspecified, but his attitude clear. He wondered if he'd be relieved of duty, but decided that they were too short of men for that to happen. Still, he wouldn't be surprised if he pulled guard duty at the incinerator for a couple of weeks. Returning to Lou, he sat down with the steaming cup held between his two hands. Lou seemed lost in his own thoughts, so Zack drank in silence, continuing to wonder at how his world had changed.

It had all happened so quickly, that was what got to him. The Shadow attack and the Chief's disappearance, the loss of the Captain…it was a terrible time for everyone. Then Ivanova straightened up and started running things, and Delenn got the fleet ready to go, and he'd found the Chief. Then the Captain came back, which should have made everything all right again, or as right as it could be in the middle of a war, but he left again right away, and it all went straight to hell.

"Hey Lou," asked Zack, "What do you think about all this?"

"What, the Chief taking over? I got no problem with it. He's always been my boss in this job. The brass do what they do; they tell him and he tells me. If he says Ivanova's off her rocker, then better he tells us what to do."

"Did you hear anything about the Captain coming back a little while ago? It was all over the station." Zack carefully left out the information that he had been one of the security party that had greeted Sheridan and Lorien on their arrival. The others in the group had stopped talking about it; no one likes to be constantly ridiculed.

"I hear a lot of things. I believe what I see, and I didn't see the man return. Besides, all the aliens say it…'no one returns from Z'ha'dum'" He said the last in a loud spooky voice. "So it don't seem likely, does it?"

"No," Zack said softly, "It doesn't." He got up to leave, saying a quick good-bye to Lou. As he walked out of the mess he said to himself, "But I know what I saw, and what I saw was Captain Sheridan. Ivanova was right about that. I gotta do something. I just don't know what I can do." He walked away, hands clenched tightly, hidden in his pockets.

After the messenger from Babylon 5 had delivered the latest news; of the visit from the Shadow ships ten days prior, the deteriorating security situation that had led to the imposition of martial law six days ago, and the coup against Ivanova just two days ago; they gathered in the small conference room off the main bridge. Ventarr had returned to his ship. Lennier had released himself from the small medical facility, and was sitting in a chair, his jaw tight against the pain he still felt. Marcus stood by the door, absently opening and closing his denn'bok. Those who knew him realized he was on the verge of exploding. Delenn was seated across from Lennier, her eyes fixed on some mental picture in the middle distance. John paced up and down, his hands clenched into fists. Lorien stood to one side, calmly observing the others.

"What the hell does Michael think he's doing?" John said, for the fourth time.

"We cannot be sure. The messenger had only the barest of details," Delenn said calmly. "All we know if that he has taken command of the station. He requested the two White Stars and Minbari warship remain, but at a distance. He has declared neutrality in the conflict with the Shadows and the Vorlons. And he has approached the Earth government, requesting talks on the status of the station."

"But what was he thinking? He can't negotiate with Earth!" And he certainly can't negotiate with the Shadows or the Vorlons!" John leaned on the table, his hands flat as if he was holding it steady.

"We don't know what he thought. I, for one, don't care what he thought. I am not even sure he is capable of thought." Marcus' voice was icy. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

"The messenger also brought the news of the Centauri Emperor's demise, and the subsequent liberation of Narn," pointed out Lennier.

"That is true. Since we are decided against the direct attack on Z'ha'dum, and Babylon 5 is off limits at this time, perhaps we could go to Narn. It would be good to hear G'Kar's impression of this turn of events," said Delenn.

Marcus said flatly, "I am going back to the station."

Delenn nodded, "I rather thought you would. We need to have someone there."

"I am not going there to spy, or to carry messages, or to try to work things out with Mr. Bloody Garibaldi," declared Marcus. "I am going to find out what's happened to Susan." He stopped the movement with his pike, and concluded, "If he has harmed her…"

Delenn rose, and placed her hand on his, "There will be justice if there is need for it. You had better go back with the messenger as far as you can, then get onto the station in your own way."

"We walk in the dark places…" Marcus said, looking into her eyes, and seeing only concern and understanding.

"You will find her. Use your own judgment as to what to do next. Are we agreed?" She looked around the room. Lennier nodded, but John was staring off into space, as if transfixed by a thought.

"Negotiation…neutrality…" they heard him say softly. He exchanged a quick glance with Lorien. "We need to talk about those Shadow ships. Are they the same ones who attacked us? What are they up to?" Then, he went on, "What are you waiting for, Marcus? Go find her, and make sure she's all right. I have a couple of ideas, but I need to speak to Lorien first, and then to G'Kar. We'll meet at Narn."

Stephen Franklin put the finishing touches on the ligatures holding the Pak'mara's jaw together. "You'll have to eat liquids for a while. Do you have something like straws?" He help up a plastic tube in front of the alien's eyes. It nodded slowly. "Use them, then. Don't try to move your jaw for four days." At the look of panic on the alien's face, he said soothingly, "It won't be so bad. I can give you a liquid diet designed for your people…" The Pak'mara shook his head violently, then made a noise clearly indicative of pain. "All right, then. You'll manage. It's only a short time."

The alien nodded and clumsily stood and shuffled out of MedLab. One of its friends waited outside to escort it home. Stephen smiled; it was another job well done. Then he looked around and saw that there were no patients waiting for once, and removed his scrubs hurriedly. He called out to the orderly, "I'm off. Link to me if there are any emergencies!"

"Have a good evening, Dr. Franklin!" the orderly called back.

Stephen headed straight for the maximum security cells where Susan Ivanova was being held. He had clashed with Garibaldi over his takeover of the station, but had reluctantly decided his duty to his patients took priority over political maneuverings. He was still aghast at Michael's stormtrooper tactics, but at least his position of neutrality in the conflict gave him room to insist on his access to prisoners. He checked on Ivanova once a day, just to make sure she was being treated properly. She was furious with him, of course, demanding each visit that he take some step to return the station to her control. He'd given up explaining his position to her, instead letting her vent her frustration at him, and making sure she was all right. Those were currently his only goals.

This visit was slightly different than the rest. Susan seemed subdued, almost resigned. He hated to see her like that, and wished fervently that there was more that he could do.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his face creased with concern.

"By my calculations, John and Delenn will be here soon. What if they are walking into a trap, Stephen? They'll find out the situation before they come aboard, from the Rangers and the Minbari. But I don't know what Garibaldi has done. Is he in contact with Earth, with those Shadows that visited us before? It could end up in a firefight. If they're both killed, it's all over. I don't know why I can't convince him of that. He really has bought into this neutrality idea. Like the Shadows and the Vorlons are still playing a game with rules and laws."

"I know, I know. I'm just not sure what we can do!" Stephen replied in frustration.

She looked at him, her eyes alight with determination. "Get me out of here. Let me try and rally the pilots, and the junior command staff. They'll listen to me; I know they will! If you'd just…"

Stephen shook his head. "I think Garibaldi's people will take you out. Things are that tense. You're right; there's dissension out there. Not everyone buys into Garibaldi's leadership, but they've got the weaponry locked up! What can we do? There isn't time for a guerrilla movement to form, or become effective. If the war is coming to a head out there, then by the time we got people organized, and began resisting, it'll be too late."

"I've got a plan. If you'd just help me get out of here…"

Stephen shook his head, and stood to leave. "No way. I'd just get both of us killed. Let me try to get things set up outside, then I'll work on getting you out of here. You have to have somewhere to go, after all…"

She started to speak, but he interrupted her, "That's my final word for now. You're safe in here. Garibaldi's not going to hurt you." He turned at the door, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Susan went back to her cot, sat down, and slumped against the wall, "I'm not going anywhere. Apparently."

Stephen said good-bye to the guard at the end of the maximum security corridor. There were two guards stationed there, but none outside the cell door. Automated systems kept an eye on the cells, both inside and out. As he walked back to his quarters, he thought about the chaotic events of the last few weeks.

Looking back, he thought that the riot in the Zocalo when Delenn was attacked was the first sign that things were going badly wrong. It had taken almost all of Security's forces to stop the fighting. Afterwards, everyone was on edge, and the air was thick with tension. After the Captain had returned, then left again, Ivanova had held it together for a little while, but the incidents got worse and worse; open looting of a row of stores in Downbelow, muggings in the Zocalo, sabotage, and fighting…fighting broke out all the time. It didn't take much to set people off. It was almost a relief when she'd declared martial law, and Garibaldi could break out the heavy weaponry and impose a curfew.

He'd been so busy in MedLab, he hadn't realized how unhappy Garibaldi had been with the direction Ivanova had taken. After the declaration of martial law, the Security chief had apparently met with other disaffected officers, and trusted members of his own team. He quickly got a critical mass of people standing behind him, or at least willing to stand aside; then he took control of the armory, locked down the StarFury bays, and imprisoned Ivanova. Personally he'd been impressed by how smoothly everything had gone; he'd always known Garibaldi was good at operational procedures, but this was on an entirely different scale, and it had gone off with only a few hitches.

Luckily, the Rangers and Minbari war cruisers Delenn had left behind were too cautious to intervene. Their orders had been to guard the station from attack, not to get involved with station politics. They were unhappy with the way things were, but with all the civilians aboard there wasn't much they could do without making things worse. So they waited, like everybody else, to see what would happen when their leaders returned. If they ever did.

When he got back to his quarters, he wearily opened the door with his identicard. Calling out 'Lights' as he entered, he was surprised when the room remained dark. There was one light visible; an emergency strip over the counter in the kitchen area. Straining his eyes to see, he didn't see anything before a hand was clamped over his mouth, and another pinioned his arm against his body to prevent him accessing his link.

"Hullo, Stephen."

He knew that voice.

"So, if I let you go, will you call Security? Or will you hear me out?"

Stephen tried nodding, although it wasn't exactly a yes-or-no question.

The voice continued, "Oh hell, let's live dangerously, shall we?"

He was released, and he turned quickly to face Marcus, who had his hands out and open.

"No weapons. I just want to talk."

Stephen nodded, "I would guess you would. Come on, sit down. What did you do to the lights?"

"I'm afraid I hit the panel quite hard with a stick. Don't think they'll be working for a while. Knew I should have studied electronics in school."

Marcus took a seat on the couch, leaning forward, and earnestly asked, "What the hell is going on here? Has Mr. Garibaldi gone mad?" His face anxious, he continued, "And how's Susan?"

"She's fine. I just came from her."

"Where is she?" Marcus' voice was grim.

"She's being held in the maximum security cells. She's fine, really. Frustrated, furious, but fine." Stephen said placatingly.

"Good." Marcus said shortly. "Now tell me everything. Who, what, and for God's sake, why?"

Stephen gave a brief outline of Garibaldi's reasoning, his resources, and his allies. He also went into the lines of resistance, and how the Security chief was finding wrenches thrown into his plans by those who didn't agree with his methods, his goals, or both.

"And what about you, Doctor? Where do you stand in all this?" asked Marcus, his voice deceptively calm.

"I'm staying out of it, Marcus. I have people to take care of, patients who rely on me. I have to be able to do my job, no matter who's running the place." His explanation sounded weak, even to him.

"All right. I guess I can see that." Marcus thought for a moment. "I need to see her."

"What about the Captain and Delenn? What are they going to do?" asked Stephen.

"They won't be coming back." At Stephen's look of surprise, he nodded, "Not yet anyway. We can't risk the people here." He continued, "After we heard what happened, Sheridan began contacting our allies in the League, letting them know that they're looking into alternative bases for the fleet. There's still a war to fight, you know." He considered the options, and said, "Let's go talk to Ms. Alexander. I need to get Susan out of jail and off this station, and I have an idea Lyta can help."

Lyta was at the moment occupied with trying to use her small cooker, which was stubbornly refusing to heat. All she wanted was to boil water for tea, was that too much to ask? Her room had been stripped to the bone on the new Kosh's orders, but she'd kept the basic cooking supplies and a small stock of luxuries. Bitterly, she wondered when she'd come to think of a cup of tea as a luxury. Zack was stopping by at the end of his shift to see if he could get the thing to work. She smiled to herself; it seemed unlikely he'd be able to fix it, but it had been sweet of him to offer. He been stopping by quite a bit lately. The poor man was torn in multiple directions at this point; loyal to the man he thought of simply as 'Chief', but also to Commander Ivanova, and Captain Sheridan. She knew he'd been sneaking into the cells to talk to Ivanova, trying to let her know she wasn't forsaken, but the woman wouldn't say much to him. Lyta couldn't blame her really; Ivanova had no way of telling who was truly loyal and who wasn't. She knew Zack had talked to Garibaldi, over and over again, but the man was adamant in his position. Zack had told her he suspected Garibaldi had gotten in too far, too quickly. Even if he wanted to, there was no easy way to back out of the situation.

When the door chimed, she called out 'Open' expecting to see Zack, and hoping they could go get some dinner. It seemed unlikely she'd be able to even heat something up here.

"Lyta?"

She didn't even turn around since she recognized the voice. "Hello, Dr. Franklin. You caught me about to go out and get something to eat…" She heard the door close and snapped off the control, saying, "This thing is never going to work." Turning she saw Stephen, and Marcus Cole, standing in her living area. "Marcus?" she said, then, "What are you doing here? This isn't a good place for you right now, did you know that?"

"How are you, Lyta?" Marcus looked around the spartan room. "Downscaling, are we? That's all right, I was never much of a one for lots of possessions either."

"Stephen? What's he doing here? Have you told him what's happened?" asked Lyta.

"He's come for Ivanova," answered Stephen.

"Oh well, that's all right then," Lyta said incredulously.

"And you're going to help me!" Marcus said winningly, flashing her a brilliant smile.

Lyta just stared. The door chime again, and she jumped at the sound. "I hate to tell you this, but that's probably Zack. I was expecting him."

Marcus was suddenly deadly serious. "Is he all right? Whose side is he on?"

Lyta answered swiftly, "He has doubts, but he's been going along with Garibaldi. He keeps trying to talk him out of the whole thing, but Michael's not budging."

"Instant decision time then. Will he turn me in, or shall I hide in Lyta's closet?" Marcus glanced around the small room, and asked, "You do have a closet?"

Lyta shook her head, "Zack's okay. I think he's okay." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Stephen doubtfully.

Stephen shook his head, "I don't know the man all that well, but he sure helped out with getting rid of Nightwatch."

"It seems it's my night for taking chances. Open the door then. Let us test the mettle of the man," said Marcus.

Zack reached Lyta's quarters, and hit the door chime to let her know he was there. He had no idea what to do about her kitchen problem; he figured he'd take her out to dinner, and lean on one of his buddies in maintenance to move her up the to-do list. There was no immediate answer, and he wondered if she'd gotten called out to attend to Ambassador Kosh. Damn, he hated when that happened. She always looked so tired and worn out afterwards.

While he waited, Zack slumped against the opposite wall. He was exhausted himself. The argument he'd had with Garibaldi just before he went off duty hadn't helped his mood. It felt increasingly futile. The station was splitting in half over this. About a quarter of the security staff had refused to work with Garibaldi, leading to double and even triple shifts. A few had left the station, a few had reacted violently and were being held in the cells; but most were taking a wait-and-see attitude. They wouldn't work for the Chief, but weren't acting against him either. At least he didn't think they were. There were certainly small acts of sabotage and disruption that could possibly be traced to disaffected security or command personnel. The aliens were leaving in droves, and the human merchants and traders were clamouring for a return to EarthGov rule. He hit the chime again, and this time the door opened. He walked in, and saw Lyta standing in the center of her room with Dr. Franklin.

"Hi, Doc.."

He barely got the words out when he felt something hard poke him in the middle of the back.

"Sit down, Mr. Allan. We need to talk."

There was no mistaking that accent. He crossed the room and sat, shooting Lyta an accusatory look.

She said quickly, "It's not what you think, Zack. Marcus isn't going to hurt anyone."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that, Ms. Alexander. It all depends on who gets in my way, and exactly what has happened to Commander Ivanova," said Marcus.

"I told you she was all right…"

"She's fine! I just saw her yesterday…"

Zack and Stephen spoke at once. Marcus just looked at them, and they stopped talking. He had a way of looking at people that was frightening in its intensity, with a hint of instability thrown in. You never quite knew how Marcus might react to a threat or challenge to something or someone he cared for.

"Are you up for a little jailbreak, Mr. Allan?" Marcus asked, seemingly calm.

Zack looked at the solemn faces around him, and burst out, "Yeah. Yeah I am. Ivanova doesn't deserve this; she was doing a good job. The Captain left her in charge. The Chief is wrong; I hate to say it, but he is."

Lyta spoke up hesitantly, "You said you have a plan, Marcus?"

"I do," he said softly. "And all of you can help. First, I need a ship…"

Susan heard the noises outside her cell door and wearily leaned back against the wall. It was probably Zack again, coming to cheer her up, or Stephen, to give her false assurances that everything would work out. Neither of them were willing to do anything, of course, just talk, talk, talk. She'd come up with plan after plan, but they had all foundered on the fact that she couldn't get out of this cell. She knew that they'd set up Security a little too tightly; there should have been a secret tunnel or escape hatch or something. It was a flaw, and if she ever got out of here, she'd see that all the prisoners who were unjustly imprisoned were put in cells with trapdoors.

The door flew open, but instead of the normal guards or one of her two allowed visitors, it was Marcus. Without stopping to think, she flew into his arms and hugged him fiercely. He almost dropped the pike he was holding in surprise. Instead his arms closed around her with a mixed sense of relief and protectiveness.

"Susan?" he said, not wanting to say too much for fear she'd come to her senses. "Are you all right?"

For one brief instant, he thought he heard a sob. Then she looked up into his face, her eyes suspiciously bright and her lashes damp. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, as she stepped back out of his embrace.

He smiled and said, "I got here as soon as I could. Want to go for a walk?"

"Love to." She furiously dashed away a few remaining tears. "Got any particular destination in mind?"

"A stroll along a beach by moonlight would be nice, but I rather think we'd best head straight for maintenance bay 2B. I've got a Thunderbolt standing by; it was in being repaired, and Zack's arranged for the security detail to disappear for a little while this evening. Care to take her for a spin?"

Susan was already on her way out the door. She paused when she noticed two guards, slumped on the floor at the far end of the corridor.

"They're just sleeping. Stephen gave one an injection, and I put the other one out."

Susan whipped her head around to see Lyta Alexander standing in the shadows.

The telepath gestured to them to be quiet, and said, "Stephen thought he heard someone coming. He'll delay them as long as he can. You've apparently contracted a contagious disease, Commander. We'd better get going before they think to check the security cameras."

The three of them raced down the hallway in the opposite direction from Stephen. They heard him declaiming, "No, you'd better not. It's terrible the way she's swollen up. I've sent for a stretcher team to transport her to MedLab. If we don't relieve the pressure…"

"What?" Susan muttered, "Will I explode?"

"Well, that would be in character, wouldn't it?" Marcus said, prepared to duck. He was not expecting her brilliant answering smile, and wondered if the loopy grin on his face would ever subside. He was so very glad to see her, and to see that she was alive and full of defiance. "Let's get to the ship."

Marcus knew the backways of the station very well and led them straight to the bay where the Thunderbolt awaited them. Zack was waiting, and told them they had about ten more minutes before the security people he'd relieved to go for a break returned. He blushed as Susan thanked him.

"What are you going to do now, Zack? Garibaldi will know you were in on this," asked Susan.

"I'm going to a place in Downbelow where a guy can disappear if he wants. Doc Franklin and I figure we can set up a resistance of some kind; prepare for when this situation goes to hell as it surely will. I just wish I'd had more time to talk to the Chief. I know he's regretting this; I know it."

"Maybe. But now it's out of his hands," replied Susan grimly. "I won't be far away. I'll find a way to keep in touch."

Marcus looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean? You're coming with us! We'll meet up with one of the White Stars protecting the station, and hitch a ride back to the fleet."

"No," said Susan briefly. "John left this station under my command, and it's my responsibility. I can't abandon it."

"But it's not safe for you here! Why would I bother to free you just to let you get captured again? You can't be serious!"

She took Marcus by the arm and pulled him away from the others. "Let Lyta and Zack say good-bye in peace." She kept one hand on his arm, and said definitively, "I can't abandon the station, Marcus. I've had a lot of time to think about this. I'm going down to Epsilon Three. Draal can fend off Garibaldi, and I can concentrate on re-taking the station. It'll work even better with Zack and Stephen on the inside. I don't think Garibaldi will retaliate against Stephen; he needs him too much. You work on the big picture with the Captain and Delenn. I'll be back running things here long before you return." She looked over to where Lyta and Zack were saying an awkward good-bye. "I can understand why Lyta has to leave; we can't risk Kosh finding out what we're up to. But Zack's taking it hard."

_He's not the only one_, thought Marcus, a lump rising in his throat. "You're sure?"

"I am," she said, then added hesitantly, "You…are coming back?"

"Yes, I'm coming back." _For you_, he added to himself. He took a chance, and laid his palm gently against her cheek, his long fingers brushing at strands of her hair that had tugged loose. "I'll miss you."

She was standing so close that a half step forward would put her in his arms again. He could feel her pulse under his hand, quick and light. She looked up at him with lips parted; her expression was half wary, half expectant. He waited a heartbeat too long before pulling her close. Zack interrupted them with a shout.

"The guards are coming back! You guys get out of here now!" He pushed Lyta towards the open door of the ship.

Marcus grabbed Susan by the hand and ran into the ship, with Lyta close behind them. Zack had already disappeared. It was only seconds before they were in the pilot and co-pilot's seat. There had been a moment of jockeying, before Marcus said gallantly, "Commander's prerogative," and relinquished the pilot's chair. Lyta strapped herself into one of the two seats in back, and wondered what in the world she was doing there. Susan entered the access codes to open the bay doors, fired up the ship, and flew it out into space. She entered her command code into the call signal emanating from the Thunderbolt, so that her StarFury pilots would know she was aboard, and hopefully, not fire on her, even if ordered to. Opening a channel to Draal's frequency, she hailed the planet, and received permission to land. She smiled in quiet satisfaction; she was finally on her way to getting her station back.

G'Kar paced the conference room on Narn impatiently. It had been a difficult task to make it ready for such important visitors. The destruction on his planet had ranged from the catastrophic bombings of cities to the trivial petty destruction of public buildings and offices. They'd been hard-pressed to even locate enough matching chairs to surround the heavy ironwood table.

Still, it was ready. Wine was available, and water for the Minbari. He's spent the morning arguing with the Council of Elders about the composition of the new Kha'Ri. The younger hotheaded leaders who had led the resistance against the Centauri were demanding more than their share of representation in the Narn Parliament. They were determined on a course of revenge, and he wanted no part of it. At least they had confirmed his reappointment as ambassador to the Babylon 5 station. He had heard disturbing rumours from his old home, and he was anxious to return and determine for himself what was going on.

Finally, he heard noises in the corridor, and going to the heavy studded double doors, he threw them open in welcome. Sheridan and Delenn were walking towards him, arm in arm, followed by Lennier and a tall unfamiliar alien. Behind these came a Minbari and a human Ranger, and a cohort of Narn guards. He hurried out and took Sheridan's outstretched hand between his own, shaking it heartily, "My friend, I am so glad to see you. What is it one of your writers said? 'Rumours of your death appear to have been greatly exaggerated'? I was never happier to see such rumours dispelled!" He turned to Delenn, and greeted her with arms crossed on his chest and head bowed in respect, "You are looking lovelier than ever, Delenn."

She bowed slightly, then asked in some distress, "But what has happened to you? Are you injured?"

He pointed to the bandage covering his missing eye, "I had a little trouble on Centauri Prime." He bowed his head to Lennier, and then said to the him and the others, "You are all most welcome." He gestured towards the open door, "Come in and be seated. We have much to discuss."

After introductions and the initial briefing by John, G'Kar filled them in on the events on Centauri Prime and on Narn. He found himself contemplating the alien Lorien, who had been named, but not explained. "And you, sir? Are you an ally in this business, or merely an interested party? What is your role?"

"I…observe. Consult, perhaps a little. I have some knowledge of your so-called enemies," answered Lorien calmly.

"Ah," said G'Kar, awaiting further illumination. When none was forthcoming, he went on, "You may of course gather the fleet and other League ships here. You must be aware, however, that Narn is in no condition to support troops, or to provide supplies or manpower for ship repair or maintenance. We have much work to do here. The sooner you can relocate to Babylon 5 the better."

"Hopefully Marcus will learn more of the situation there. The more information we have on Garibaldi's plans, the sooner we can remedy that unfortunate situation," Delenn said sharply. "He is supposed to meet us here, and bring Ivanova if he is able."

"I will be returning to the station shortly. I am most distressed to hear this news about Mr. Garibaldi. I will speak with him as soon as I get back. There must be some reason behind this…defection," said G'Kar.

John grunted, "I can't think of any. What I would like to know is why there has been this lull in attacks? Both the Shadows and the Vorlons are holding back…what's stopping them continuing to fight their proxy war?"

Lorien stroked his chin, and said, "I think they may be looking for me…and for you perhaps. We are both important to them at this juncture."

Silence fell over the table at that suggestion. No one could think of anything to add.

Delenn spoke again, "I have been considering our logistical situation, and I believe we must consider alternatives to Narn, and to Babylon 5 if it remains outside our control. There is a Minbari colony world on the edge of Narn space that would suit our needs. I would need to speak with the Grey Council to get approval for our entry into Minbari space."

Lennier spoke up, "I do not believe they would be amenable to this request, Delenn. They have shown no interest in fighting this war. That is why the Council was broken in the first place, as you well recall."

She nodded, but said, "That was then. The Shadows have attacked several of our outlying colonies, and the Warriors have fought them. They have stayed out of the larger war, but perhaps they now understand the true nature of the conflict. I would also like them to know of the Vorlons' involvement in the struggle, and their use of planet-killers. This is the central battle of our age against the darkness. It grieves me to see our people remaining on the outside in this."

The captain of the Minbari war cruiser who had accompanied them spoke then, "Are you sure you would be safe, returning to Minbar?"

"Of course. The remnants of the Council may not like it, and they are free to disagree with me, of course, but they would do me no harm," answered Delenn.

Lennier exchanged glances with the human Ranger. She said, "Entil'zha, they have tried to harm you in the past, or at least they sent a representative to do so."

John said uneasily, "There was that incident on the station, during your installation as Entil'zha…"

Lennier nodded, "Even if we believe that Neroon acted on his own; I do not think we can assume the new Council follows the dictates of Valen."

"It is my decision. I will take one of the Minbari war cruisers, and an escort of White Stars if it makes you feel better." Her voice was growing icy, and the others at the table hastily agreed that would be adequate. John was still looking at her, but she stared back with no signs of backing down.

G'Kar stood, and said, directing his words to Sheridan and Delenn, "I will have you escorted back to your ships if you like, but I would enjoy your company at dinner tonight. We still have the rudiments here; it will not be a formal affair of state, but simply old friends enjoying each other's company."

John smiled and accepted for himself, looking at Delenn, who nodded her agreement.

As they left, John lingered behind to catch Delenn. He waved Lorien on ahead, but the alien stayed in earshot.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Your leaving right now?" he asked.

"The colony would be a good place for us. It is sparsely populated, but has a functional spaceport and maintenance facility. We cannot impinge on Narn hospitality; they have enough worries. And if you and Lorien are a target, we would endanger these people. I have enough Narn blood on my hands as it is." Her voice was strained. She had watched the approach to the devastated planet from the White Star's bridge immersed in sadness and guilt. Narn had been an early sacrifice in the Great War; one that she and Kosh had reluctantly made.

John nodded unhappily. "You have a point." He took her arm and said, "I just wish you didn't have to go."

"John," she said hesitantly. "Can you tell me why Lorien stays so close to you? He has barely been out of your sight since that first night after you returned. What is his connection to you? I know he saved you after your…fall." She swallowed hard, it was still difficult for her to discuss this. "But why so close? He is always watching you, as if he is waiting for something to happen."

"No reason," John said shortly. "He's just curious about the younger races, I think. He's been isolated for a long time."

She looked at him, a sense of distrust dawning in her. "You're sure that's all it is?"

"Yes," John snapped. "Don't you believe me?"

"I would never suggest you were dishonest," she said in distress. "I hope you do not think that." She went on, carefully picking her words, "I thought perhaps you were omitting something, that is all."

"Well, I'm not. Now, can we get back to the first topic? When do you have to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, I think. There is no time to waste. It will take a week to go and return, and we have no idea how long this lull in the fighting will last."

"I'll miss you," he smiled at her a little sadly, wondering if he was doing the right thing in concealing his limited lifespan from her. It was sad comfort to think that he might never have to tell her; that either or both of them might not survive the war. At this point though, he literally couldn't stand to cause her more pain than he'd already put her through. Besides, she had enough to worry about.

"You can show me tonight how much you'll miss me."

Her voice had that lilt in it that he loved. "First, let's brief the other captains, and then we have dinner with G'Kar. There'll be plenty of time after that for me to show you… everything you need to know."

"I'll look forward to the demonstration. I'm sure it will be both educational and illuminating."

Lorien was staring at them in fascination. "Excuse me," he said. "Am I correct in assuming that indirectness is an integral part of your mating rituals?"

John burst into laughter at the question, and even Delenn had to smile. Neither answered him though.

"Zathras!"

The shout echoed through the cavernous corridors. A hunched over alien with a fox-like face came scurrying out of a side tunnel and ran towards the voice. "Coming! Zathras is coming!"

"There you are!" The glowing form of a stout elderly Minbari male appeared in front of Zathras. "We have company coming…we'll need some rooms prepared, within the complex, suitable for human occupation. And I'll need to speak to those people on the station. Is the holo-communication system operational?"

"Yes, Draal. Zathras fixed three weeks ago. Ready to be used."

"Good. I'll speak with our guests first. Then I'll explain some matters to this Mr. Garibaldi person." He walked off a short distance, then disappeared.

"Make room ready. Make holo-device ready. No, that already done. What are humans' needs? Food, water, sanitation. So little time, so much to do." Zathras hurried off, still talking to himself.

After the Thunderbolt had landed, Marcus, Susan and Lyta made their way to the heart of the Great Machine to greet Draal. He already knew most of their story from monitoring communications to and from the station, and was most upset. He had given his support to Sheridan, and pledged to help protect the station. He had accepted refugees, and let them set up a temporary medical facility on the planet surface. Commander Ivanova he knew and respected, and she was an acceptable surrogate. This Mr. Garibaldi, however…him he did not know, and the man's actions so far were not promising.

"Commander!" Draal beamed as he greeted Ivanova. "And who is this with you?"

"This is Marcus Cole, and Lyta Alexander. They both helped get me off the station. Can I stay here, Draal? I don't want to cause you any trouble, but I need to stay close by and work on getting control of the station back."

"Of course you may. No one will bother you here, and you can communicate freely with anyone you like up there. Will you all be staying?" Draal asked.

"No," answered Marcus shortly. "I have to get back to the fleet."

"You must convey my greetings to Delenn, Ranger. It has been too long since we have talked. What of you, Ms. Alexander?" queried Draal.

"I…I don't know," Lyta confessed. "I had to leave, but I have nowhere to go."

"We can always use more telepaths on the ships, Lyta. You're welcome to come with me," said Marcus.

"All right. I'd like to help," Lyta said gratefully.

"That's settled then. Zathras will take you to your quarters, Commander. I will speak with this Garibaldi person now, and explain matters to him. There will have to be new arrangements. I'll ensure your safe passage, Ranger, but you had best leave soon. Say your good-byes." He looked at Susan, and said, "I will join you in a short while,' then disappeared.

"I can't stand it when he does that," Lyta murmured. "It's like the Chesire Cat, nothing left but his smile. I'll head on back to the ship now. Good-bye, Commander, and best of luck."

"You, too, Lyta, and thank you," answered Susan.

Marcus watched the slim redhead walk back towards the docking bay, and remarked casually, "Nice of her to leave us alone."

"Tit for tat. We did the same for her and Zack," said Susan.

Marcus raised one eyebrow questioningly, "Are we like Lyta and Zack? They seem a bit more than friendly to me."

Susan exhaled forcefully, "Don't push it. I wanted to thank you for coming, and getting me out of there."

"Anytime," Marcus answered jauntily. "At your service-one Ranger, available for rescue, transport, anything. Anything at all. Anything you want." His voice tapered off wistfully.

She started to say something, but instead turned to leave. His face fell; he'd hoped to score some points with his recent actions, but it seemed nothing he did could break through her wall of reserve.

"Aw hell," she said. Turning back, she grabbed him by the shoulders, and thoroughly and passionately kissed him.

His arms tightened around her, and he wished fervently that he didn't have to go. The kiss deepened, her hands ran through his hair, and he was just deciding that the war would carry on just fine without him when she broke away.

She said nothing, just looked at him, eyes wide, her expression an unspoken tangle of deep emotion. His head was still spinning as she walked off.

She called back over her shoulder, "You come back. That's an order."

Delenn had left early that morning, on board White Star 11. Her last night with John had been subdued. She was still feeling unsettled by the First One's scrutiny, and had to fight back the strong feeling that John was hiding something from her. Having practically accused him of concealment, which he had denied, she was still perilously close to suspecting he was not speaking the truth. It was very upsetting, and she was almost glad they were to spend this short time apart. Almost, but she couldn't find it in her heart to truly be happy in their separation.

She was waiting for Lennier in her quarters, but he was uncharacteristically late. In her agitation, she decided to walk towards the bridge and perhaps meet him halfway. She was almost there, when she felt the world slip sideways. Clutching at the wall, she tried to regain her balance by concentrating, but it didn't seem to stop the spinning. She closed her eyes, and the feeling lessened. Straightening, she walked slowly ahead, only to have her knees buckle under her.

Lennier was hurrying down the corridor when he caught sight of Delenn staggering against the wall. He ran towards her and got one arm around her before she fell. Her weight sagged against him for a moment, then she regained her balance and stood up straight.

"I just felt dizzy, Lennier. It has passed."

"We should go to the medical facilities. Just to check."

"I am fine."

"Then I will call them myself, and have them examine you on the bridge."

She smiled, realizing he would not back down, and said, "Your concern is appreciated. We will go, but I am sure it is nothing."

Lennier waited in an outer room while the Minbari healer examined Delenn. A human physician was called in to consult. Lennier supposed that was due to her unique physiology.

She came out after a short while, her face carefully neutral, and turned to face the two physicians. "I ask that you honor my request to tell no one of this incident. You have determined I am not ill, or injured, and that is all that is necessary." She smiled reassuringly at Lennier, "They say I am fine. We will speak no more of this. Come, we have work to attend to."

He bowed, and followed her out, not comprehending, but content that she would not say she was well if she was not.

The human physician looked at the Minbari and said, "Will she be all right? I've never dealt with anything like this before."

"She has asked us not to speak; and the code of privacy prevents us in any case." The Minbari healer continued sorrowfully, "If this became known on Minbar, her very life might be in danger. _Entil'zha med melira'fel_, and the storm of war is upon us. She has to consider many conflicting priorities. I do not envy her."

The human stared after Delenn. "Me either. It's a hell of a time to be pregnant."


	3. Secrets

**A Day Late 3: Secrets**

_Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words._

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After Susan's initial arrival on Epsilon Three, she had spent only a few hours exploring the caverns and corridors at the heart of the planet before she was back at the causeway leading to the Great Machine. She shrugged off the exhortations of the Zathras clan, and headed out to speak to Draal. He was easier to find here in the working center of the machine. Even if he wanted to hide, where could he go? If he tried to sneak out in his holo-form, she'd track him down. She needed to get started, and that might well mean getting into the machine herself.

"Draal!" She looked up at the Minbari, pinned to the heart of the machine like a butterfly. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" She walked up closer, and put her hands up to her mouth to magnify her voice, and called loudly. "Hello in there…"

"Commander, this is quite undignified." A booming voice sounded behind her, and she turned abruptly to see the glowing form of her host.

"You know we've got to move on this right away." She continued, intently, her hands moving restlessly, providing emphasis to her words. "I need to use your holographic display to visit the station. It would also help if you could show me how to access the station's computers. I'd like to know more about the planet's defense systems. Do you have any flyers here, capable of transporting me back?" She looked past his body hanging in the core to the softly beckoning glow of the control panels. "What else can this baby do?"

Draal looked at her in wonder and amusement. The humans were so energetic and forceful; and this one especially was chaotic in the extreme. He liked the Commander, and was glad to assist her in her mission. After all, Delenn believed that the station above him was of vital importance in the ongoing conflict, and he had long ago learned to listen carefully to his former protégé's opinions. She was a formidable ally who could think deeply and plan strategically. Of late, however, he mused as he watched Ivanova examining the dials and settings for the Great Machine, Delenn was growing more like the humans. She could be almost…reckless…in her actions.

He was startled out of his reverie by a pinging noise. Susan was exploring a panel of lights to one side of the cradle which held his motionless body. "Don't touch that!" He hurried over to Ivanova, and put his hand over a row of crystals that were glowing and fading in a precise sequence. Susan looked at him with one eyebrow cocked up almost to her hairline. Draal watched in fascination; how did they get so much expression into a thin line of hair follicles?

"Do you want to do a holographic projection, like the one we rigged up for Captain Sheridan last time? Or the more complete version you used when you needed to locate your Captain in his quarters..." With interest, he watched her face flush. Minbari blushed, but not quite so extravagantly. "I was monitoring that conversation. Very illuminating. That female he was with put me in mind of a wild ghattir." At her look of incomprehension, he added in explanation, "A Minbari predator of the high mountains. Sleek and elegant, quiet, and very deadly. A little clumsy when out of their element."

"That about describes it…I mean, her. What if I need to be connected to the Machine, so I can access computers or block messages, stuff like that?" Susan asked hurriedly, trying to change the subject.

"Then you will appear as I do now," answered Draal.

"Like an apparition…" she appeared to be lost in thought. "That could come in handy." Snapping her attention back to Draal, she said, "Okay, here's what I need to do…"

An hour or so later, Draal was wishing he could become corporeal so that he could obtain a painkiller for the headache her intricate plans had engendered. It was all quite interesting, and very well might work, but it would have them switching in and out of the machine quite a bit. It would probably be good for him. His body didn't get enough exercise as it was; the Machine was a temptation as well as a responsibility. Still, it would take some effort, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He watched as she climbed up into the cradle, positioning herself for connection to the Machine. It seemed so natural to her; she had never found it awkward or uncomfortable as he had at the beginning. The Machine accommodated itself to any lifeform that entered it with benign intent, but her ease and facility with the apparatus was startling. It had occurred to him before that her affinity was meaningful in some way. "Commander?" he said questioningly.

"What is it, Draal? Whatever it is, tell me now. Once I'm in here, it's a little hard to focus on other things. I need to concentrate in order to make myself materialize in the right place on the station."

"Have you every considered how unusual your ability to use the Machine is? I had to work with it for hours, days even, before I could do the simplest task! I still have difficulty performing some actions, yet they seem to come naturally to you."

Susan nodded, with some trouble considering her restrained position. "What are you getting at?"

He hesitated, then said slowly, "I think perhaps you are meant to be the next person who occupies the heart of the Machine."

Susan stared at him in disbelief. "Me? Why me?"

"I do not know. I have never known why I heard the call. When the last occupant was dying he reached out to several people; Sinclair, Delenn, Londo Mollari, and me. I was the one the Machine called out to most strongly. I was the one who had nothing to lose by dedicating what remained of my life to the Machine."

"So you think I have no other purpose?" Susan sounded both frightened and indignant.

"I do not. But perhaps in time, you may come to a place in your journey where this would be the right destination. I just want you to think on it. There are many marvels to be seen and experienced in the Machine. It is very old, and very powerful. I do not think I will live long enough to experience one tenth of its wonders."

Susan closed her eyes. The galaxies danced behind her eyelids, and she felt a powerful tug on her mind, like a strong undertow. "I'm not ready."

"Of course not. You are young, and strong, and still involved in the world. Someday though, you may wish to consider this option. The Machine can extend your life, and expand it."

Draal's voice was low and hypnotic, and Susan felt its rhetorical power but she was fixated on her task. "Not today. I've got a station to take back."

Draal smiled. The seed had been planted. "That is true. I will await you here. Go, and do what you need to do."

"Susan, stay the hell out of my bathroom!"

Garibaldi had caught a glimpse of a golden glow reflected in his bathroom mirror, and turned to face his tormentor.

"What? It's not like you've got anything I haven't seen before." The holo-image of Susan Ivanova held what looked very much like a smirk. "Besides, it's private in here, and we need to talk."

"The hell we do!" Garibaldi grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before storming out of the bathroom. "We've got nothing to talk about!"

"Of course we do. I only want to help you, you know that." Her voice was friendly and practical. "We both want what's best for the station." Her non-corporeal body walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it, leaning back, her arms straight, and her legs crossed at the knee. "I know you think you're doing the right thing, but think about it. Your friends, people you trust; they see things differently. Have you even stopped to consider that they're right, and you're wrong?"

Garibaldi didn't answer, just threw on his Minbari-provided, Army of Light uniform.

"Why are you still wearing that? It can't mean anything to you." She sounded a little disapproving.

"What do I have left to wear?" He turned and stared at her, his tunic still unfastened. "My EarthForce uniform? We gave that up when Sheridan declared independence. Civvies? I can't issue orders to the command staff as a civilian. I've changed roles and allegiances so many times I don't know who I am anymore."

His words echoed in the small room with an apocalyptic ring. Susan looked at him thoughtfully. "Have you changed, or has something changed you?"

Garibaldi sat on the opposite side of the bed, his back to Susan's image. "When I came to the station, it was because Jeff asked me to. I wasn't that interested in Babylon 5, its mission, its purpose…I just wanted to do him a favour. He needed me, and he trusted me to do the job, and do it well. When he left, it all changed. It was just a job. Sheridan was okay, even getting to be someone I could trust, maybe even a friend, but then it all went crazy." He stood up and fastened his uniform, straightening the collar. "I couldn't stand by and watch you people frog-march us into an unwinnable war without doing something!"

Susan lowered her head wearily. She'd spent hours now talking to Michael, but it always ended up at the same impasse. They just disagreed on the nature of the war, and why they had no choice but to fight it. She was making steady progress in her plan to re-take the station, but she still hoped to achieve her goal without unnecessary bloodshed. If she could just convince Michael…most of his people were blindly following his lead, and would do what he said. It was funny, he kept accusing her of following Sheridan without thinking, but he commanded the same degree of loyalty from his staff. He just couldn't see the similarities.

"You need to stop this campaign, Susan. Someone's going to get hurt if you don't."

"What are you going to do? All I'm doing is talking to people. I thought that's what this war was all about; allowing people to make their own decisions about their lives. What are you so afraid of?"

Garibaldi grimaced a moment, as if in pain, then said grimly, "I'll shut you down at the source. Then I can deal with the disloyal types here in my own way."

Susan looked at him in suspicion. "What do you have planned?" Then, shocked, she went on, "You can't attack the planet…you know the planetary defense systems are extensive and automatic! Even Draal doesn't have complete control over them. If you send in StarFurys, they'll be shot down!"

"Then stop flitting around the station, harassing me and my people! Simple, really. It's all up to you. You want to make your own decisions, then make 'em! But be prepared to accept the consequences." He turned on his heel, and left the room.

She heard the door to his quarters snick open and shut while she sat, thinking furiously about this development. Her plans were almost in place; she was only waiting for one more player to arrive. If she couldn't forestall an attack by Garibaldi on Epsilon Three, everything would fall apart. Crossing the room to the monitor on the wall, she reached through it with her outstretched hand, pulling out the data on personnel location. Her proficiency and innovation in using the Great Machine had impressed even Draal. Stephen's link indicated he was still in his quarters, which was lucky, as she hated materializing in MedLab. It upset the patients who caught a glimpse of her glowing form. At their last meeting, Zack had informed her that rumours were rife in Downbelow that Garibaldi had killed her, and her ghost was haunting the station. An idea slid past her mind, which was busy focusing on the translocation of her image to Stephen's quarters. Perhaps she could use those rumours to her advantage? The timing would be difficult…as she faded away, a slight smile remained hanging in the air for a moment. It was a satisfied smile. You might even call it a grin.

_Damn her to hell_, Garibaldi thought furiously as he stroke through the corridors towards C&C. She was becoming his own personal Marley's Ghost, a constant reminder of his actions and their possible consequences. He'd had everything under control before she broke out and escaped off the station. Holed up on Epsilon 3, safely beyond his reach, she was now sending her holographic image all over the station. She'd kept out of C&C, she said because she didn't want to disrupt station operations. Hah! She was the epitome of disruption, the spirit of chaos in black and silver. He'd had reports of sightings from Earhart's, the officer's Mess, the pilot's locker room, the observation viewport, the docks…. She'd even showed up at one of his Security briefings, carefully standing at the back, out of view of his staff. Every time she'd caught his eye, she would wave happily and grin.

The headache he'd pretty much continually had since he woke up in MedLab after his rescue started to build again. He paused in the corridor, and after making sure no one was watching, leaned his forehead against the wall. The cold metal soothed him a little. The pain never went away, but at times, it seemed like something in his brain was trying to bust loose. He swore softly under his breath, and turned back towards MedLab. Maybe he would find Stephen there, and get something a little stronger that would actually work this time. He wished he could remember what had happened while he had been missing. When Sheridan had returned, he had a story to tell; a crazy story that couldn't possibly be true, but at least it was something to throw out there. He was stuck with 'I don't remember' which he got the distinct impression no one truly believed. Aside from strong feelings of anger and a vague sense of being trapped, there was nothing left except a gaping hole and the painful headaches that worsened whenever he tried to remember. Jeff had said something to him once, something that Minbari assassin had said…'You have a hole in your mind.' That's exactly how it felt. He had a hole in his mind. What terrified him was the lurking suspicion that something was hiding in that hole; waiting for the right time to come out.

John Sheridan was alone in what had been Delenn's quarters on the White Star she had chosen as the flagship of her attack fleet. It was a small, intimate space, and everywhere he turned a reminder of her absence confronted him. He sat at the table, reports littering the surface; tactical inventories, repair and maintenance logs, crew and equipment shortages. He rubbed his hand across his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the momentary pain would help him regain his focus. He had to get this stuff read, process it, and issue orders in answer to it. He wished to hell he had come up with some reason for Delenn to stay, but her sense of duty was as strong, may be even stronger, than his own. Still, that last night had left him with memories that kept him looking to the future, and longing for their reunion.

"_Hold still!" she said, a little breathlessly._

_He looked up at her and smiled, "I'm not moving anything. Not a thing." Now he was finding it hard to breathe. It wasn't easy to keep himself immobile, but he felt he was accomplishing the mission as ordered. His hands rested lightly on her hips, and he had to fight the impulse to trace the muscle and underlying bone structure with his fingers. He had succeeded. So far._

_Awaking to find her astride his naked body had been startling, but only for a moment. It felt like they'd just fallen asleep, but not knowing when they would see each other again had proved inspiring. He had reached for her only to hear her demand that he let her proceed as she wished. It was okay with him. Partners in battle, it seemed only right they share command in bed._

The alert on the comlink brought him back to the reality of the day. He answered the call, and after listening intently, barked a few orders at the poor Ranger who'd invaded his daydream. He hadn't made it back to his seat before another call came in. This one was from an approaching White Star. Marcus and Lyta were aboard, and requested a meeting to brief him when they arrived. He asked after Susan, and was reassured that she was fine, but had chosen to stay behind and work on regaining control of the station. Good girl, he thought approvingly, never abandon your command unless there is no other option. He picked up another file, but found himself reading the same sentence over and over as his mind drifted back…

_As she slid down over his erection, he closed his eye for a moment and let the feeling wash over him. It always felt the same; like he was coming home. His jaw clenched at the effort to keep from moving inside her, and looking into her eyes, alight with desire, he knew she'd noticed. She reached down and ran her fingers along his jaw and across his lips. He couldn't help it; he had to kiss them as they passed lightly over his mouth. Her hand trailed down his chest, then back up to his shoulders. Then at last her strong hands grasped his shoulders tightly, and she began to rock against him, moving slowly up and down, controlling the rhythm of their joining. He tightened his grip on her hips, then moved them up to her waist; still he managed to hold back from taking over, letting her set her own pace._

The door chimed, and he rose to answer it. Someone had sent in some food. Funny, he supposed he had forgotten to eat again. He kept hearing Lorien in his mind, "The sun has risen and set nine times. Are you hungry? You should be starving…" He set down the tray; military rations were never very appetizing, but he supposed he should eat to keep his strength up. There was flarn, made from some kind of powder, but it was good. He had no idea where the cook had managed to get fruit juice. Orange in color, it certainly wasn't from any kind of Earth orange he'd ever tasted. Still, it was considerate of them to try and find something similar. Eating was like maintenance now; necessary even if not what he really wanted to do. He drained the serving of juice, and sat looking at the empty glass. He knew what he wished he was doing.

_He could tell she was close. Her head had dropped down to his chest; her hair was spread across her back and tickled his arms, which were now wrapped around her, holding her tightly against him. She whispered something over and over; it was Minbari, and he couldn't tell what she was saying, only that it was said with passion and fire. Holding back, he waited for her to look up. She always seemed to want to look at him as she came; it was like she had to convince herself that he was really there, with her. When she raised her head to meet his eyes, he felt the clash of her fire with his steel. 'Come with me, John,' she had said with a tone indicating it was both plea and order. 'Stay with me,' she whispered again. He had responded fiercely, 'I'll never leave you. Never.' Released from his stationary prison, he began to move, taking her over the edge with him. Her eyes were locked with his, and the physical intensity mingled with the emotional to send him even higher. Only a few more moments; then, with mutual cries of joy blended with tears, together they escaped from solitude._

He looked down at the papers crumpled in his hand. 'I'll never leave you.' He'd been saying that a good deal lately, and the duplicity inherent in the promise grated on him. Telling her of his limited life span was going to just get more difficult as time passed. Dropping the papers to the table top, he watched them flutter into a disarrayed pile. After what she'd been through when he left, he couldn't bring himself to tell her the final piece of truth about what had happened on Z'ha'dum. He'd died there, and in the process almost taken her with him. Shaking his head, he picked up the file and began to arrange the loose papers in it. He couldn't do that to her, hurt her like that again. They really only had the present anyway; no one knew how the war would go, and anything could happen. _Sufficient unto the day_, he thought. He would deal with one problem at a time.

Marcus had courteously asked Lyta to accompany him to the briefing with Sheridan. There wasn't much she could add, but perhaps her impression of what had happened on the station would be valuable. When they got to Sheridan's quarters, they found Lorien waiting at the door.

The alien nodded at Marcus' greeting, and curiously examined Lyta as Marcus introduced her. "You are one of theirs," he said cryptically to the telepath.

She looked startled, then answered, "I suppose I am…I mean I was." She thought at first he meant she was part of Sheridan's group, but then realized he was referring to her connection with the Vorlons. She looked at him thoughtfully; how had he known that? Marcus had told her a little about Lorien; but even the Ranger didn't seem to know much about the enigmatic alien. Her eyes narrowed. Lorien had been found on Z'ha'dum, but what he was doing there no one had explained. Was he a prisoner or a guest, a friend or foe of the Shadows? She followed Marcus into Sheridan's quarters, still wondering.

Sheridan indicated they should take seats around a round glass-topped table. Marcus' report was brief and to the point. Lyta noticed he left out any personal details, but she couldn't really blame him. They weren't important to anyone besides him and Commander Ivanova. Her attention wandered as Marcus and Sheridan discussed tactical issues; and the possibility of re-taking the station. She was beginning to wish she'd begged off the briefing, when she noticed Lorien studying her again. He was stroking his beard with one hand, and smiling gently at her. His eyes were bright and compelling…so compelling that the more she looked into them, the more she felt trapped. This was followed by a feeling of falling so intense that she found herself clutching the edge of the table. Shuddering, she focused on breaking his gaze, and was startled when she felt a jolt of electricity snap the link between them. Turning her head, mouth open and gasping from the backlash, she saw that Marcus and Sheridan had fallen silent and were watching the two of them.

"You are strong, young one." Lorien chuckled dryly. "I would not have believed one of your race capable of that. Of course it was a casual scan, hardly a test of your powers…"

Lyta said brusquely, "I got you out of my head; that's enough for me. Didn't anyone teach you any manners?"

Sheridan said sharply, "That's enough, Lyta! We don't have time for this. Marcus, you've seen the situation first hand. Can we go back to the station without endangering the civilians? Would Garibaldi actually start a shooting war with us?"

"He might. From what I heard and saw, everyone's on a short fuse right now. It would only take a spark to set things aflame. I'd say give Susan some time. She has a plan, although there wasn't time to discuss it. If we rendezvous with Delenn at Trigor, the fleet could go on to Babylon 5 quickly if the situation improves."

"That sounds good. All right, I think we're done here…" Sheridan paused as the com sounded the alert indicating an incoming message. It was from G'Kar. "Play message," he said, turning to face the screen on the wall.

"Captain! I wanted to let you know that my ship will soon be ready to depart. Are there any messages you wish me to carry? I plan to speak first with Ivanova before returning to the station. I am sure she has some interesting plans in motion, and I would hate to interfere with them."

"Never a good idea," Marcus chimed in, smiling at G'Kar. "It's good to see you're still in one piece." Looking more carefully, he added thoughtfully, "But missing a piece or two, it seems."

G'Kar laughed uproariously at this, and said, "How about you, Ranger? Any messages for the fair Commander?"

Marcus hesitated, then said with a slight smile, "Tell her I will obey her last order, however long it takes."

G'Kar shook his head, still chuckling, "I will not ask what you mean by that." Addressing Sheridan, he concluded, " I will leave in a few days, and be there within the week. Expect to hear something soon thereafter. I will personally take Mr. Garibaldi to task. His actions are incomprehensible, and I mean to demand an explanation."

"Good," Sheridan replied shortly. "I'd like to hear it, too. We'll presumably be going on to Trigor, and will gather the fleet there. That's where you can contact us."

G'Kar nodded, and hit the 'end' button on his console. The others were silent for a moment, until Sheridan stirred and said, "Marcus, can you arrange quarters for Lyta? I'd like to talk to Lorien for a moment…"

The alien interrupted Sheridan, saying, "Actually, I would like to speak with Ms. Alexander before she leaves. I may have a proposition for her."

Sheridan stared. "A proposition? What kind of proposition?" Lorien looked dispassionately at the Captain. "I would like to take her with me when I go." "Go where?" Sheridan and Marcus spoke at the same time.

Lyta cocked her head to one side, looking at Lorien with narrowed eyes. "You want me to go with you? Or to gain admission for you? What makes you think they'll let me get any closer than you would get on your own?"

"What are you two talking about?" Sheridan expostulated. "Lorien, I need you here. Our plans…"

"Are not ready to enact. I will return before my presence is needed." Lorien fell silent, still looking at Lyta.

"Lyta, where is he talking about taking you?" asked Marcus.

"The Vorlon homeworld, I imagine." Lyta looked down at the table, as if considering her options. Then she looked up, and said to Lorien, "Why not? I barely survived the last time. I've left their service without their permission. I'm sure they'll be happy to see me."

Lorien nodded, gently smiling, while Sheridan and Marcus exchanged glances filled with consternation.

The Grey Council's location was not widely known, even to those of high status among the Minbari. Their ship was constantly moving about Minbari space, visiting colony worlds, collecting information from the far-flung outposts of the Minbari Federation, settling disputes, negotiating trade agreements. Most of the work was done by an elaborate hierarchy of worker caste civil servants. These were honored positions, discreetly vied for and coveted; for to serve the Council was to serve the entire Minbari race, and there was no higher calling.

Delenn and Lennier were on White Star 11 at the beginning of their trip, but had transferred to the Minbari cruiser as they approached Minbar. She had given the com station a coded message to broadcast on a closed frequency to alert the Council ship that she was there. If they were out of range, she would go down to the planet and see if she could determine their whereabouts. If they chose not to answer, or her contacts refused to speak with her, she would leave. She was in no mood to spend any time placating the Council; they would hear her or not, as they pleased. Lennier was watching her discreetly, worried about the volatile state of her emotions. It was different from before, where she had seemed detached and bloodless, the natural result of the Aia'sa'dum. This was a fiercer, sharp-edged mood. It was one he had seen in the past, but before he had always had an idea what lay behind her actions. He could not put his finger on any reason for it now.

The _Valen'tha_ answered their hail after a few hours of ritual attempts to contact them. Lennier, a Minbari worker caste pilot, and two Rangers, were to accompany Delenn to the Grey Council's ship. Once aboard the small flyer, Lennier took the opportunity to speak to Delenn.

"What do you plan to tell them, Delenn? How will you convince them to act at this late date? Their actions so far have circumscribed their possible reactions; can they now admit that they were wrong, that this is the cardinal battle of our age?"

Delenn sat back in the seat, and sighed heavily. "It will be difficult." Her voice hardened as she continued, "But it should not be. Valen said, 'Let there be no regret in reflection' and that should be especially true for those who are entrusted with the governance of our people. If I find the right way to present it, surely they will see…after all that has happened, they cannot be so blind!"

"Valen also said, 'There are none so blind, as those that will not see.' I believe they may find it expedient to 'not see' the truth in your words," answered Lennier regretfully.

Sagging in her seat, Delenn had a look of defeat in her eyes that disturbed Lennier greatly. "However," he said confidently, "If they will listen to anyone, they will listen to you. You are doing the right thing." He took the liberty of gently touching her hand with his own. "They need to hear what you have come to say. Once you have told them, your responsibility is at an end."

She shook her head, her curls falling over her face. "My responsibility is for my own actions. And I have much to answer for." She fell silent, and after a short while, Lennier excused himself to check with the pilot about the docking procedure.

Once aboard the ship, Delenn assumed her normal aura of serene command. She strode confidently towards the chamber where the Grey Council meets, and waited patiently for the door to open. She was rewarded after only a brief period, when the doors slid back, and the darkened chamber lay violate and foreboding. Taking a moment to nod to Lennier, who bowed to her, the Minbari equivalent of a 'thumbs up'. Smiling at the thought of Lennier actually giving her the human sign for encouragement, she entered the chamber.

Standing at the center, she stood tense and straight, with her hands at her sides, awaiting the Council's pleasure. When the spotlights hit the hooded figures, she bowed her head in respect, to each Councillor in turn. Waiting for the proscribed ritual of petition to begin, she was surprised to see one of the Councillors leave the circle and approach her. When he took down his hood, she was even more surprised to see that it was Neroon.

The Warrior smiled, somewhat unpleasantly, at Delenn. "What do you want here, Entil'zha?" He emphasized the last word, drawing it out, and not in a respectful way.

"I came to impart some information, and to make a request, of the Council, Neroon. As any Minbari is entitled to do, with the Council's permission. I gather from the fact that I am here, within the Council Chamber, that this permission has been granted?"

He stepped back from her, and opened his arms expansively, "Correct. You may speak. Make your petition. Tell us your…news." He moved away from her, assuming his position within the circle. The other Councillors watched, seemingly impassive; their hoods hiding any expression on their faces.

She took a breath, sent out a silent prayer, and began.

She hadn't spoken for more than a few minutes when she realized her attempts were futile. Still she continued to try and make her case. Neroon led the questioning and his mocking doubt and sarcasm infuriated her. She was able to make her explanations calmly at first, but her temper was rising even as her arguments grew more fervent.

"Delenn, the defense of Minbar, and the worlds of our Federation, is in excellent hands. The Warrior caste takes its responsibilities seriously, and they are quite capable of making appropriate military decisions based on our instructions. You need have no further concerns in this matter."

Neroon had walked towards her position in the spotlight, and was standing uncomfortably close. The room was warm, almost hot, and her head felt light.

"I understand, and agree that the Warriors can defend our people. None of our worlds are touched by Shadow, so the danger from the Vorlon involvement is minimal. However.."

Interrupting, Neroon said harshly, directly in her face, "The Vorlons are depriving our enemy of valuable bases and support among alien populations. It is a standard ploy of warcraft, and I salute their implementation, and welcome their assistance. They are following their own strategy, which is to our advantage as well."

Delenn stared at him in shock. "Did you not hear what I said? They are destroying whole worlds! Worlds full of beings who do not support the Shadows, who may never even have heard of the Shadows! Worlds full of innocents…"

"No one is innocent in war. There are only those who are on our side, and those who are not."

"This is not the Grey Council I knew; not the one I served on; certainly not the Council as led by Dukhat." She lowered her head, shaking it slightly. "This is not a Council which follows the wisdom of Valen." Clenching her fists at her sides, she asked, "Then you will not lend us your assistance in this war?"

Another figure stepped forward, "We will consider your petition to gather at Trigor. That, I believe, is possible, at least on a temporary basis." Looking around the circle, the figure continued, "That will be the extent of our involvement. We will discuss this, and send to you with our decision."

Delenn bowed her head. It was less than she'd hoped, but perhaps more than she'd expected. Still, she had tried. Yet even as she started for the exit from the chamber, the now familiar disorientation hit her, and she began to sway on her feet.

Neroon paused only a moment, as if uncertain whether this was another stratagem, but quickly strode to her side, catching her as she collapsed. "Call the healers!" he shouted to the others, as he lowered her to the floor of the dimly lit room.

She awoke in a strange room, lying on a tilted gurney. It was a medical facility; she was familiar, too familiar with the noises and smells of such places. The last thing she remembered she had been walking out of the chamber; then feeling dizzy. Realizing she must have fainted again, her mind wandered for a moment before being hit by the realization that her condition must have been revealed to at least the healer. Struggling to rise, she was restrained by a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw the stoic face of Lennier looking down at her. Searching his face for clues as to whether he had been told, she began to briefly panic, then calmed herself. It was Lennier; even if he knew, he would not judge her.

"What happened?" she asked, hoping against hope that they had not examined her.

"You collapsed on the floor of the Council Chamber. Neroon carried you here. He sent for a healer, and for me. He has been back twice to check on you. The healer examined you; he has left for a moment to complete his report. He will return shortly."

She digested this in silence, shocked to find herself afraid to ask more questions. After a moment, she asked quietly, "What did the healer say?"

Lennier's eyes slid away from hers, and she knew then that he knew. "Your blood pressure and heart rate are elevated. You are running a slight temperature, which concerns him." He looked up briefly, then down again. "You are in expectation of a child." He looked into her eyes. "I imagine that Sheridan is the father?"

"Yes," she answered briefly, then "Who else knows of this?"

Lennier shook his head. "The healer and I, as far as I know. And perhaps the physicians on board the White Star?" His voice held a slightly accusatory note.

"Yes," she answered again, wondering how she could ever put this right. "Would you ask the healer to attend me, please?" Lennier bowed slightly, and went through a door into an inner room. He was back in a moment with an elderly religious caste Minbari, in white robes, crowned with the healer's hood.

"Su'zha Delenn, may I be of service?" said the man, bowing his head towards her.

She shot a glance at Lennier, then said to the healer, "May I ask your name, Sech?"

"Zathenn, Su'zha. And may I say it is an honour to be of service to you?" He bowed again, then approached the bed. "You are suffering a slight disturbance in blood chemistry due to your condition. It seems to be affecting your balance, and hence the disorientation you experienced. It is temporary, and seems to have left no ill effects."

She nodded, then began, hesitantly, "It is important to me, Zathenn, that no one besides yourself, and Lennier, know of my 'condition'."

Zathenn looked at her without comprehension for a moment, then awareness dawned on his face. "Is there a problem, Su'zha? If you and your mate have not completed the rituals, it would not be the first time this has happened. Anticipation of a child is such a joyous event, I am certain the elders will overlook this neglect of ritual. There are precedents, even in the respected clan Mir, I am certain."

She released her breath softly, "No. I do not wish them to know. No one must know."

Zathenn nodded slowly, "You have a right to privacy, Su'zha, that is true. But I must ask you to put yourself under a more knowledgeable healer's care soon. There are some anomalies I have noted in your record…that is I think they may be anomalies. With your unique physiology and biochemistry it is difficult to be certain."

Delenn said, "The Rangers have both human and Minbari physicians. Together, they can make an assessment that will suffice."

The healer bowed his head. "I will seal your records here, and refer to your wish for privacy if anyone asks. Even the Grey Council honours the privacy of the patient. It will not be a problem, I assure you."

"Thank you. For that, and for all your help." Delenn bowed to Zathenn, then turned to Lennier. "Has the Council announced a decision in regard to our use of Trigor?"

"They have, Delenn. They will let us use the colony's port for a period of no more than six weeks."

"That will do. We will have to move within that time, as I do not imagine our enemy will give us much more than that to prepare." Zathenn had left the room, saying he had to speak to his technician regarding some other patients. "Lennier," Delenn began, "I must ask for your silence in this matter. John must not know…" she put her hand on his arm as he began to protest, "Not yet. I will tell him, in time."

"Will all respect, Delenn; in time, he will know, whether you tell him or not."

"That is true, but we must proceed carefully. You know what the reaction on Minbar is likely to be."

"Not good."

She passed her hand over her eyes. "You are becoming adept at the art of understatement, my friend. No, not good at all. I must think on this, and determine the best time and mode of revelation- to John, and to my clan. Now, however, is definitely not the time."

Lennier nodded. "I understand. And obey."

Delenn smiled, and shifted on the bed until her legs touched the floor. "Then, with your assistance, I suggest we leave for our shuttle immediately. The sooner we are on our way to Trigor, the better."

They left, Delenn keeping one hand on Lennier's arm for fear of another fainting spell. A few minutes later Zathenn came hurriedly into the room. He looked around, then stopped, wondering what would be the best course of action. Acting on Delenn's request, he had sealed her records. Unfortunately, the automatic notification had already been sent out to her clan elders. They would arrive in a few days, prepared to register the pregnancy, and certify that the pair was joined with the proper ritual and permissions. He sighed, and decided to leave it. Even if Delenn had not finished the joining rituals, the elders would allow her to complete them before the child arrived. Whether the father was the younger Minbari who accompanied her, or some diplomat or warrior on the station from whence she came… even if it was a Ranger; it would not be a problem. As the saying went, 'the knowledge we have must be sufficient for the day.'

After Marcus had escorted Lyta to her quarters, he returned to John and Lorien. They were still sitting in the same position. Lorien was conversing intently with the Captain. He took a deep breath, and started right in. "Is is safe for you to leave?" This question was directed at Lorien. The alien's implacable stare was his only answer, so he turned to Sheridan. "What about your condition? Is it safe for him to go? What if you have problems?"

John gave Marcus a similar unreadable look, then glanced at Lorien. "It's not an issue. Let's not go into it."

Marcus stared back, his eyes hard. "It's an issue with me. You asked me to keep this a secret. I agreed. You also told me your condition wasn't stable. Now Lorien is off on a joyride to the Vorlon homeworld and I'm not supposed to go into it?"

"You are concerned," said Lorien dispassionately, but with curiosity.

"Damn right I am." Marcus turned to Lorien. "Right now this man, along with Delenn, is holding this coalition together by a thread. What happens if he dies…again? What do we do?" He turned to John, and asked point-blank, "What do I tell Delenn?"

"You tell her the truth. That I'm gone, and she'll have to go on and lead the fight against the Shadows," answered John, his voice tinged with rising anger.

"The truth! Why haven't you told her the truth? Do you think she can't handle it?" Marcus stood up and began to pace around the room. "If that's it, you should know this. She's stronger than you think. Possibly the only thing that could break her is your lack of trust."

_She hadn't trusted him_. John bit back his instant response, shocked at the intensity with which the feeling hit him. Neither she nor Kosh had trusted him, not with the knowledge of Anna's possible survival. Was he withholding information from her as some kind of payback? He was shaken by the thought, but soon realized his action was more a kind of protection than punishment. Then another thought struck him; was he protecting her, or himself? He dreaded the inevitable revelation, and knew he couldn't put it off much longer. Marcus was staring at him, his eyes hard and unforgiving, awaiting an answer. "I'll tell her, Marcus. It'll have to wait until the fleet gets to Trigor, assuming we get permission from the Grey Council. I can't see doing this over a comlink."

Marcus nodded. "Agreed. Now, back to my first question. Is it safe for Lorien to leave?"

John looked over at Lorien, then back to Marcus, and shrugged, "He says it is."

Marcus was still for a moment, considering, then gave a curt nod to John, and asked Lorien, "When are you leaving?"

"As soon as possible. I do not believe we will be left undisturbed for much longer." Lorien's golden eyes glowed as he spoke.

"We were discussing the Shadow vessels that appeared at the station, Marcus. Did Susan say any more about them?"

"Only that there were just three of them, and that they left without firing a shot. She said they seemed almost saddened by her refusal to assist them. Disappointed in her reaction, maybe. It was odd."

"Odd is the word for it. They were looking for me, and presumably for Lorien, but why?" mused John. He turned to Lorien, "You said they knew you were there, on Z'ha'dum, right? They must know you're gone. If they know we're travelling together..."

Lorien said, "They tried to kill us in hyperspace, Captain Sheridan. It is certainly possible they are not pleased with us. You, of course, gave them every reason to be displeased." he stroked his chin a while, then went on, "I would not have thought they were so angry as to try and destroy me along with you."

Lorien looked pointedly at Sheridan, and Marcus covered his mouth to hide his smile at the Captain's expression. He suggested, "Maybe there are two groups, factions within the Shadows? One group that wishes to kill you; another that wants to convert you?"

"I think they know I can't be converted," said Sheridan grimly. "I made it quite clear on Z'ha'dum. Maybe they think Lorien is being coerced?"

Now Lorien laughed dryly, "I think they know that is not possible. They are under no illusions as to my abilities. Just because I chose not to use them before this does not mean they do not exist."

Marcus muttered, "I don't understand. They honor you, revere you, but want to kill you." He looked at Sheridan. "Sorry, but I mean Lorien. I understand quite well why they would want to kill you."

Exasperated, Sheridan said, "I'm getting tired of hearing why they want to kill me! I know why they want to kill me. I was there, remember?" Changing tactics, he confronted Lorien, "Why the Vorlon homeworld? They've finally made their choice and entered the war, just not on our side, it appears."

"I would like to hear their reasons, that is all." Lorien looked inexpressibly sad. "It is difficult to explain. I knew it might end like this, but I had hopes." He looked at Sheridan with an indefinable expression. "I still have hopes of you. Go and build your fleet. Make your peace with Delenn. Embrace the remarkable illusion that illumines your lives."

Marcus looked confused, but Sheridan just nodded. His eyes were suddenly quite old. "I'll have a White Star prepared..."

"I think I shall take my old ship. They will recognize it, and perhaps that will help." Lorien turned to Marcus. "Could you inform Ms. Alexander that we will leave in a few days?" Then, speaking to Sheridan, he said, "We still have much to discuss. Perhaps we can continue in the morning." The tall alien turned and left the room without ceremony.

As soon as Delenn arrived at the colony, she spoke with the managers of the mines and spaceport that served them, explaining their needs and expectations. The Minbari workmen listened without comment, and left to follow her orders without concern or question. It was restful being among her own people, she thought. The humans are so volatile, always doing the unexpected. She smiled to herself, and added mentally, but also so interesting. She'd decided to keep her quarters on board White Star 11; there wasn't much to supervise until more ships began to arrive to join the fleet. Once the initial arrangements were made, she retired to her quarters to call John and let him know of her arrival and what progress had been made.

"Delenn? How'd it go? Aside from that brief announcement that we could use Trigor as a staging point, I haven't heard any details."

His voice was achingly familiar, and she wished she could hear it without the accompanying pang of guilt. Soon, she thought. Soon he will be here, and I can tell him, and whatever happens after that will happen. "There are no details worth going into. I spoke with Neroon..." She could picture the look on his face at that name, and wished again that it had been possible to establish a video link. "It went well. We got what we wanted. I did not expect to get what we hoped." There was a brief exhalation from the com, and she wondered if it was acknowledgement or exasperation.

"It's something anyway."

There was a lengthy pause, and she began to wonder what was on his mind.

"Lorien left today."

The blank tone in his voice left her confused. "Left? Where did he go?"

"He took Lyta Alexander with him. They're going to go talk to the Vorlons."

"The Vorlons." Delenn tried to take it in. Her people had ventured into Vorlon space over and over during the last thousand years, only to be repulsed. At least, the ships that returned described it that way. "He took Lyta?"

"He seemed to think it was a good idea." John couldn't admit he was uneasy about the whole thing, or why. "G'Kar leaves for the station tomorrow. He's going to contact Susan once he's underway. Marcus thinks she has a plan..."

"Susan is nothing if not resourceful. I expect we will hear good news from her soon."

"We probably will. Once the fleet is ready, with all the emergency repairs complete, we'll head to Trigor to join you."

"Good," she said, wishing she could put more of her heart into her voice.

"It'll be another day, maybe two before we can leave," he hesitated, hoping his reluctance didn't show. He wanted to see her, he always wanted her near, but the inevitable discussion was weighing on his mind.

"I will be here." She didn't know what to say. Used to keeping information to herself, this secret was different in so many ways. "We can talk then."

"Talk about what?" His tone was sharp, the words came quickly, without thought.

"The war, our plans, what we do next..." He sounds upset, she thought. Something was going on, perhaps something to do with Lorien. Some of her old suspicions returned. He didn't want Lorien to leave, but why?

"Yes. Yes, of course. We have a lot to talk over." Relief washed over him. She didn't know. How could she know?

"I will say good-night then." She wished she could see his face; perhaps she could read in it what lay hidden behind his words.

"Good night." With that abrupt farewell, the connection was broken.

She had gone to bed uncomfortable and uneasy after the awkward conversation with John. Due to their respective positions, there would always be issues between them that must remain private -issues of politics and history, secrets that were not theirs to share. As to personal issues, they were already joined in heart and spirit, connected by both their shared mission, and their shared love. The secret she carried was a temporary necessity. It would be good when he arrived, and she could share her untimely, yet welcome news. As she prepared for her evening meditation, laying out the glass pyramids and lighting the candles according to the rites of her clan, she considered his words, and hers, and his reactions to her words. There was something deeper than her hidden knowledge, some weight he bore that she was not to share. It would seem they both had their secrets.

As G'Kar's ship approached the jump point, he sent ahead a pre-arranged coded message to let Ivanova know he was nearing the station. He would drop a small flyer from the main ship just after he entered the gate, which would be shielded by the Great Machine from the sensors on Babylon 5. The flyer would pick her up from Epsilon Three and ferry her on board, in time to put her plan into action.

Susan received the message as she was discussing some technical issues with Zathras. After sending on the pre-arranged signal to her allies on the station, she returned to her task. Time was of the essence. She found Zathras and his brothers less frustrating now. Once she'd learned to listen carefully, and weed out the digressions the aliens were prone to, she'd found them quite interesting. They certainly knew a great deal about the Machine, a lot of which they weren't prepared to tell her, no matter how hard she pressed them. This particular brother was adept at kludge, the knack for adapting technology or tools for another purpose. He reminded her of Zathras, actually, the one who had gone back in time with Jeffrey Sinclair. As they worked on their project, she found herself humming happily to herself. It was all going to work out, she thought. For once, everything was going her way.

Zack Allan was carefully making his way through maintenance tunnels and back stairways to the service corridor behind the Zocalo. One thing Garibaldi had always insisted on was that his people knew all the official and the unofficial, not to mention the downright dangerous, ways around the station. One of the Chief's favorite sayings was 'Bad guys don't get in line to take the T', something Zack had later learned that Garibaldi had gotten from his grandmother the cop. He wanted to be in place and safely hidden when Ivanova came back aboard. He'd arranged for a few guys in Security who were still loyal to Sheridan and Ivanova to meet him. They'd need some back-up in case things went wrong. The others he'd recruited would be mingling in the crowd. Each of them would shadow a guard who was still loyal to Garibaldi. He'd told them to ignore the Narns. That was taken care of already.

Stephen Franklin was in his quarters. He'd taken the afternoon off, which had aroused some mild suspicion, but his schedule had been erratic of late, and he hoped his impromptu vacation would be accepted without much remark. At Ivanova's suggestion, he had been doing routine physicals on all the pilots and most of the command staff, using his time with them to identify those who were unsympathetic to Mr. Garibaldi's takeover of the station. More than a few vented to him, under the cover of doctor-patient confidentiality, but he only pursued later conversations with those he was confident about. This was too important to be messed up by mistaken loyalties or spies sent by Security. By manipulating testing dates and 'losing' flight certifications, he'd made sure that the pilots who were on call today were Ivanova/Sheridan loyalists, or leaned that way. He'd also alerted a few of the command staff that something might be happening. Their grim nods had been followed quickly by offers of help. A few he'd picked to meet him in his quarters. When they got the notice which bay G'Kar's flyer had been assigned; they would meet Ivanova and escort her to the Zocalo. Other people in on the plot were to discreetly herd people towards the open space where Ivanova planned to make her play. If any of them had miscalculated their allies or loused up the timing; this could still end up turning ugly. At least there'd be a doctor in the house, he thought wryly.

G'Kar exited the jump point and approached the station confidently. He answered C&C's hail, and asked for permission to dock his personal flyer, while the main transport stayed in its assigned area awaiting its time to return to Narn. He sent a coded message to his lieutenants on the station, alerting them that he had returned. The message included a trigger phrase initiating some specific actions on their part. He had set this up at the beginning, when he had first offered his people to Sheridan to fill the gaps in their Security forces after the humans had broken away from their government on Earth. He had not lived this long, and been through so many battles, both above and below ground, without understanding the importance of contingency plans.

Once his flyer docked, he was met by a group of armed Narns. Several human Security guards were there also, but they gave way to the Narns, and followed at a discreet distance. One of them had stepped forward initially to inform G'Kar that Mr. Garibaldi wished to speak with him. G'Kar had smiled, a warrior's smile that made the guard's blood run cold, and replied that he would be happy to meet his old friend, and asked where he might be found. When told, he set off at a quick pace, striding towards C&C. People gave way before him, and although it seemed he barely noticed them, he was observing their demeanour and changes in the station itself. The people seemed cowed, by and large. There was a large Security presence in the corridors, and in the open spaces they passed on their way. He saw people being questioned, and small groups dispersed. Overall, it felt like an occupied community, something he was quite familiar with, and one which was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Grimly, he thought to himself that they didn't have long to wait.

"Mr. Garibaldi."

"G'Kar."

The two men faced each other across a large desk in what had been Sheridan's, and then Ivanova's, office. Garibaldi was uncomfortable meeting the Narn there, but he needed to stay close to C&C, and he wanted this meeting to be private. He had to find out what side G'Kar was on. It had better be his, because half his Security forces were Narns at this point, and he knew they would follow G'Kar's orders over his.

G'Kar and entered the office, indicating to his guards that they should stay outside the door, but keep themselves ready. He stood stiffly at first, but noting Garibaldi's extreme case of nerves, he decided to take a friendly approach. Sitting in the chair in front of the desk, he calmly watched his friend sweat.

"What brings you back, G'Kar? Business or pleasure?" Garibaldi took a seat behind the desk, although he fidgeted uncomfortably in Sheridan's seat.

"I live here. My work is here. My friends, my fellow Narns, all here. Where else should I be?" G'Kar's voice was amiable as he sat back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, looking as if he were ready to sit and chat a while.

Garibaldi's gaze kept returning to the black patch over G'Kar's missing eye. Finally he gestured towards it. "What happened there?"

"A parting gift from Emperor Cartagia. The man was quite mad, of course, but then I've often suspected that is true of many Centauri, particularly those of high rank."

Garibaldi laughed hollowly. "So..." He hesitated then went ahead in a rush. "You've heard about how things worked out here?"

"I would like to hear it from you." The Narn's tone was implacable; his expression unreadable.

Garibaldi started in on his explanation. He'd told Susan's holo-image the story so many times now that he practically had it memorized. He'd gone over it a few hundred times in his own head as well. It was a good story, a logical story. It made sense. His actions made sense. So Susan didn't see it, and Zack and Stephen disagreed...they were wrong. They had to be wrong, because their way was just going to get them all killed. He finished up, and he still couldn't tell how G'Kar was taking it, so he just sat there, slumped a little in the seat, waiting.

G'Kar sat in silence. Often it was best to wait before correcting an underling, giving them time to realize their error before the chastisement proceeded. Of course Mr. Garibaldi was not a Narn warrior-in-training; he was an officer of the Earth Alliance, and a friend. Shifting in the chair, his travel-stained leathers creaking a bit, he pondered his next words. They must be the right words, for words have power, and he could sense his friend was at a tipping point. "Mr. Garibaldi. I am sorry to say that I cannot agree with your course of action. Regardless of issues of procedure, or military hierarchy, or the allegiance owed to ones friends..." He leaned forward, putting his hand on the table and tapping out each word with his gloved forefinger, "this..is..a..mistake."

Garibaldi stared, slack-jawed for a moment, then began to sputter in protest.

G'Kar held up one hand, and said firmly, "The Ancient Enemy is not to be won over by protestations of neutrality or promises of non-interference." He looked at Garibaldi sadly, "This is not a traditional conflict. They do not wish land, or slaves, or tribute. They want our souls; they want our hearts, our minds. No one will be allowed to stand aside." He shook his head. "They will be back. And if they do not, it will only be because the others get here first."

Garibaldi found his voice, and croaked out, "The Vorlons you mean?"

The Narn nodded. "Unless we take the battle to them. Change the playing field, and the rules. This is what Sheridan and Delenn have planned, I believe."

"You've seen them?" Garibaldi then asked, almost hopefully, "You believe that's really the Captain?"

"I do." G'Kar stood and held out his hand. "Come with me. You need to see something."

Garibaldi didn't know why he went with G'Kar, except that it seemed like a good idea at the time-and he wasn't sure he was being given a choice. The Narn marched through the corridors, pausing only to point out to Garibaldi, under his breath, the black looks of some of the station's inhabitants, and the cringing attitudes of others. A guard of armed Narn security personnel followed behind them, and made Garibaldi increasingly nervous. As they turned into the main open area of the Zocalo, just beneath the elevated walkway, they saw a crowd milling about, talking among themselves with subdued excitement. They stopped along the back wall, near the opening to the corridor holding the market stalls. Garibaldi noted with relief that there was a strong Security presence. He nodded to several of his men, who nodded back, and clutched their pulse rifles. Most of them were in riot gear already; they had to patrol that way lately. There was still a lot of unrest.

There was a flurry of movement, and then from the right side of the walkway Garibaldi saw the glowing holo-image of Susan Ivanova stride across the narrow metal path to the center. She stood silently, and was joined by Stephen Franklin to one side, and to his disappointment, Zack Allan on the other. She began to speak.

As she spoke to the crowd, Garibaldi looked about to gauge the reaction to her words. People were responding positively for the most part, although there were pockets of hecklers, naysayers, and prophets of doom in general. As she continued to make her case for resistance, he noted that the general mood was lifting. People were beginning to stop talking amongst themselves and pay close attention to her. A few pumped their fists into the air, and shouted. A cheer or two erupted from the back of the room. His attention went back to the trio on the catwalk.

"Some of you are wondering where I am now, where I went when I left the station. I didn't go far, just to the the planet below. This station, this mission, is too important to be abandoned. You are too important to be abandoned. You people here are a vital part of the fight against the Shadows. I've heard the rumours; 'Captain Sheridan is dead. Ivanova is dead.' I've heard the talk; 'We can't fight. We can't win.' Well, we can and we will. Captain Sheridan is alive, and he and Delenn are on their way back. I am alive..." At this point, the golden aura surrounding her abruptly vanished. "And I am here. Now, will you stand with us...and fight?"

The crowd erupted in cheering. A few Security guards make motions as if to rush the stairway to the catwalk, but each found themselves confronting a Narn or human guard in their way. Garibaldi shook his head; he'd been well and truly out-flanked. G'Kar took his elbow and maneuvered him through the crowd, and up the stairs. The Narn advanced towards Susan, and crossed both arms against his chest emphatically, bowing his head slightly to her in acknowledgment of her rank. He turned to the crowd, and assured them that he had just come from Narn, and that Sheridan was there, and would be leaving to join up with Delenn and the rest of the fleet shortly. After a few more cheers, he instructed the Narn guards that they were to answer to Ivanova as their commander until such time as Sheridan returned.

Garibaldi then asked to speak, and told his men to stand down, and to report to headquarters where they would be given further instruction. He looked to Susan, who nodded, and he then asked the crowd to disperse. They went, with only a few disparaging shouts, and some encouragement from the Narns.

"So I guess we're back in the war." Garibaldi said with some disgust, a little sadness, and an undercurrent of raw fear.

"We were never out of it, Michael." Susan turned to Zack. "You're in charge of Security for now, Zack. Take Mr. Garibaldi into custody."

Zack started to protest, but Garibaldi cut in, "She's right, Zack. Go ahead," he added with a faint smile, "I'll come quietly."

"Your jail is not so bad, Mr. Garibaldi," said G'Kar comfortingly. He pulled a leather bound book from an inner pocket, and handed it to his friend. "I found it a place of illumination. Perhaps you will find so as well. Use this to record your thoughts. Retrace your steps in words, in here."

Garibaldi took the book, his hands were shaking slightly. "I guess I got off on the wrong path somewhere."

G'Kar looked at him with sympathy. "It happens to everyone at some point. G'Quan said, 'When you are uncertain of your course, trace the path of those you trust.' In the end, you will find your way back."

_A few days before…._

As G'kar sped on his way to Babylon 5, and Susan laid her plans of reclamation on Epsilon 3, John paced the deck of the flagship White Star One on his way to Trigor. He'd rather fight a convoy of Shadow ships that face Delenn and tell her the implications of what had happened on Z'ha'dum. He would have to watch the hope drain from her eyes, to be replaced by pain and grief. Still, it had to be done. He wouldn't be leaving her for a long while yet, and they had much to look forward to once this war was done. He sighed. The war, and other duties, might take a good deal of the time he had left. After the Shadows were defeated, and that defeat was not a foregone conclusion, there would still be the problem of Earth and President Clark. Then there were the other plans they had discussed in those long strategic planning meetings, late at night on the station. That already seemed a lifetime ago. Still, he remembered a cell on Centauri Prime, seventeen years in the future. He could still feel her warm embrace, taste her soft lips on his, and hear the words that remained a beacon of hope and joy for him:

'I love you' and... 'We have a son'.

That evening, restless, Delenn found herself unable to sleep. John would be here soon, and she knew she had to tell him about their child. Lennier was right; it could not remain her secret for long. And John deserved to know, even though she hated to impart such joyous news, then sully it with the rest of the story, of how her clan and caste, her world, might well react. The official reaction to her condition would be dictated by both tradition and prejudice, and while she did not wish it undone, she could wish it had come about in another way, at another time.

Her mind would not settle enough to permit meditation, which would at least afford her rest, if not repose. After awhile, she decided to go ahead and get something to read from the outer room. There was no reason she couldn't work if sleep eluded her. As she pushed up from the bed, an intense convulsion racked her frame. It radiated out from her lower abdomen, tensing muscles throughout her body. Taking a moment to isolate the physical discomfort in one corner of her mind, she wondered what to do. It was very late. Thinking perhaps some tea would help, she sat up gingerly, and waited for a moment. The pain subsided.

Rising from the bed, she walked slowly towards the bathroom, a quick stop before going to the kitchen area. She moved more easily now, certain it was some passing spasm, nothing to worry about. As she reached the doorway, another ripple crossed her abdomen, and she involuntarily clenched her stomach muscles against it. That was a mistake. The pain intensified as she fought it, and hard as it was, she soon realized the better course was to surrender to it. Clutching at the door frame, she managed to pull herself into the narrow space that was her private bathroom, a luxury aboard the White Stars, where most areas were communal. Looking at herself in the long narrow mirror that edged the shower stall, she watched a bloodstain bloom like a rose on the white silk cloth caught between her thighs. Another and another formed on her sleeping robe, like a time lapse vid of a summer garden, centered on her lower abdomen and following tendrils of red downwards. Catching a sob in her throat, she sank to her knees. Her robes flowed around her, except where they stuck, warm and wet, to her legs. Doubling over from the pain, she fervently wished she'd thought to call someone before this; then realized the only one she wanted was still too far away.

She wanted John. She wanted him to stroke the sweat-drenched hair from her face, to rub away the horrible ache in her lower back, to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. Her hands grasped at empty air, closing on his absence, finally twisting the fabric of her robe around her fingers instead. The tears she'd been holding back fell, blending drops of warm salt with the cold beads of sweat already coating her face. Then she felt it coming, a great rushing tide of blood, which crested in a wave of pain unlike anything she'd felt before. There was a rip in her soul as something inside tore away, and she felt a terrible moment of loss mixed with unwelcome and shameful relief. Everything stopped for a moment; her tears, the pain, the sounds she hadn't even been aware she was making. It was over.


	4. Ties

**A Day Late 4: Ties**

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

_"A penniless man who has no ties to bind him is master of himself at any rate, but a luckless wretch who is in love no longer belongs to himself, and may not take his own life. Love makes us almost sacred in our own eyes; it is the life of another that we revere within us; then and so begins for us the cruelest trouble of all."_

-Honore De Balzac

* * *

Lennier waited at the port's small, dark, and cramped debarkation area. It was a colony world after all; not set up for tourists or for travellers. Those who came to Trigor, came to work. There was no natural beauty, no artifacts, nothing except whatever art and culture came with the miners and the administrative and support staff who served them. Larger common areas were full of light and attractively, if minimally, furnished. This area, however, was strictly functional. He had finished his tasks, ferrying requests and information from Delenn to the Minbari colony workers, and the Rangers who were working alongside them. The port area was ready to receive the fleet of the Army of Light. Most of the ships had been fully repaired, either on the journey to Narn, or at Narn itself, but there were still a few which needed specialized work. Supplies and workmen awaited Sheridan's arrival, as did he.

Delenn was back in her quarters on the White Star, after staring down the Ranger medics who wanted her confined to the sickbay, or even ferried to a larger medical facility on another world. He knew she was getting the best of care, but wished he could get back. No one except the supervising healers, and himself, knew what had happened to her. That was not a situation that could last for very long. It gave him some satisfaction to know that he was still needed. Sheridan had decided to visit the planet first, touring the maintenance facilities and thanking the Minbari workers personally before joining Delenn on the ship. Lennier was here to meet him and accompany him back, using the time to answer any questions he had. Of course he would not reveal Delenn's secret; he had made that promise and he would keep it however awkward the situation became.

"Mr. Lennier."

He had been lost in thought for a moment, and the sound of his name startled him. Looking up, he saw Sheridan and Marcus standing in front of him. Quickly standing, he bowed to them both, "Welcome to Trigor."

Sheridan nodded briefly in response, but Marcus returned the bow with a broad grin. "It's good to see you, Lennier. How was the Grey Council?"

Lennier hesitated only a moment, and replied, "They listened, but they did not hear."

"Typical," Marcus shook his head. "So, are we ready to get back out there? Planets are so unnatural. All that flat land dotted with mountains and buildings. And blue sky overhead! Give me a cramped seat on a flyer with only thin metal between you and the depths of space."

Lennier smiled, and gestured towards the dock where a personal flyer awaited them. "We can depart at any time."

Once they were aboard, Lennier found himself wondering at Sheridan's silence. The man seemed more than a little distracted. Still, he had a lot to think about, as did they all. He was piloting the flyer, with Marcus sitting companionably next to him, chatting about what had happened since they'd last talked. Lennier listened, making only an occasional comment. Marcus didn't seem to need any response. Sometimes the human answered himself. It was almost restful. Once they docked with the White Star, Lennier led them down the almost empty corridors towards Delenn's quarters.

"Where is everybody?" Marcus asked curiously.

"Delenn has sent some of the crew down to the planet to work with the port facility. She wants our presence to be as little of a burden as possible," answered Lennier. He hesitated, wondering if he should say anything, then delicately went ahead, trying to prepare them, "You should know that Delenn has been unwell of late..."

Sheridan's head snapped around, "What's wrong with her?"

Lennier shook his head, "That I cannot say. She is better now; she was only in the medical facility for a day. But she is still noticeably affected...I thought you would notice."

"She was in hospital?" Sheridan's face took on a greyish tinge.

Marcus sucked in his breath; this wasn't good. He couldn't decide whether to worry more about Entil'zha or Sheridan. He knew it had been a mistake letting Lorien go on his crazy field trip. The Captain had quickened his pace, setting a straight course towards the area that contained the living quarters, until he and Lennier were almost trotting to keep up. Marcus asked Lennier, "What happened? Did something go wrong on Minbar? No one came after her, did they?"

Lennier shook his head. "Nothing happened except an unpleasant encounter with the Council."

"Then what is it?" Marcus knew there was no quick way to extract information from a Minbari, but sometimes he wished he could use some of his more colorful methods.

"It is not for me to say."

Marcus thought his friend almost looked smug. This was going badly.

Stopping for a moment, Sheridan turned to face Lennier. "Tell me what's wrong." When Lennier didn't answer, his face flushed, and his voice took on a deceptively calm tone. "Tell me."

"I am sorry, Captain. She has asked me not to discuss this further, with anyone."

"She didn't mean me!" snapped Sheridan.

Lennier's face grew even more still. "Actually, she did."

Sheridan looked incredulous for a moment, then turned and strode off quickly in the direction of Delenn's quarters. Lennier watched him go, his expression unreadable.

Marcus looked at his friend, and said, "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" When Lennier remained silent, he said, "We have to talk."

"I do not think this is necessary. I should return to Delenn and make my report. She is waiting..."

"She is busy, Lennier. Or will be shortly." Marcus said in exasperation. "Look, here's a bit of friendly advice. Don't get between those two. It won't end well, and it won't help."

"I do not know what you mean." Lennier's expression was almost stubborn.

Marcus sighed inwardly. Something had happened. Lennier hadn't been happy with the relationship before, but he had accepted it. Now he seemed determined to be obstructive. "You do know what I mean! You saw what she went through when she thought he was dead...she loves him. He loves her. End of story. Hell, with any luck, it might even turn out to be a happy ending!"

Lennier shook his head defensively, "It is not a good thing, not for her. She has changed, and not for the better."

"Of course she's changed. People do, when they're in love. She'll get over it, in time. Or maybe she won't. It's really none of our business. What should we care, as long as she's happy?" Marcus was looking straight at Lennier as he spoke, and he saw a nightmare lurking behind his eyes. Something had definitely happened to change Lennier's attitude, something bad. It was difficult to keep from charging off to see for himself.

Lennier spoke then, his tone tinged with bitterness, "Happiness? Is that our only goal in life, then? Minbari believe the greatest rewards lie in service to our clan, our caste, and our people. How can one find happiness outside of that, or worse, in opposition to that?"

Carefully, Marcus answered, "She is Entil'zha. She has served your people all her life, and now she serves mine and others as well. I wish her all the happiness she comes across along the way. It's a long, hard path she has chosen, Lennier. You, of all people, should know that. Don't begrudge her this."

"I should go."

Lennier turned, and Marcus took a chance, and held him back with a hand on his arm. "Leave them alone a while. They need to talk." He felt the tension in the muscles strengthen, and then relax.

"I...suppose you are right."

"Damn right I am!" Marcus rubbed his hands together, and said, "Come on, let's go see if we can find some food and drink. You look like a man who could use a cuppa."

"A...cuppa?" asked Lennier quizzically, sounding much more like himself.

"Tea, my good man. I could use some myself. Let's go."

Marcus headed off in the direction of the galley, and Lennier followed, allowing himself only the briefest of glances in the direction of Delenn's quarters.

John cursed his haste; he hadn't asked Lennier which room was Delenn's. It would be one of the private rooms, probably the largest due to her rank. Not that she'd care, but protocol and tradition would require it. He stopped outside the most likely door, and touched the keypad to request admission. The door opened.

"Come in."

It was her. He stepped inside, taking a moment to observe her, sitting on the couch, papers spread out on the low table in front of her, a lit monitor on an end table. She was speaking rapidly into a small hand held recorder, watching as her words were translated into Minbari text on the screen. He hadn't said anything yet, trying to gauge her condition from her looks. God, she was pale, almost ashen in the bright glare from the spotlights over the couch. She held herself stiffly, like she was in pain, or afraid she would be if she shifted position. Dark smudges lay below her clear green eyes, like shadows pooled on the forest floor. "Delenn?"

She looked up and smiled, and for a moment, all his fears fell away. When she rose to greet him, however, he caught the small grimace she made, and she felt taut, almost brittle, in his arms. He settled her back onto the couch, and took a chair opposite, so he could watch her face, trying to read what lay hidden behind her eyes.

"I have something to tell you."

"We have to talk."

They spoke at the same time, surprising each other with their intensity.

He began to speak, hedging away from his own revelation, needing to know more of her troubles before adding to them. "Lennier told me you'd been ill."

Only someone who knew her well would have seen the slight narrowing of her eyes that indicated surprise. Lennier had spoken out of turn, he thought; that wasn't like the Minbari at all.

"I suppose he thought you should be somewhat prepared. It was not his place to make that decision," she said.

Shaking his head a little, John said, "He needn't have bothered. It's obvious something's wrong. Tell me what's going on." He hesitated, then added, "Are you all right?"

She looked away, then down at the floor. He waited patiently. One thing he had learned from his experiences the last few weeks was patience. Finally she spoke.

"On the way to Minbar, it was discovered that I was expecting a child. That is no longer the case."

Speechless for a moment, he stared at her, unable to take in what she was saying. He managed to choke out, "You...we...a miscarriage? When? Why didn't you tell me?" His voice had risen, though he lowered it immediately when she flinched at the sound. This was bringing back bad memories, of a previous confrontation, another secret revealed.

"It happened two days ago. I wanted to tell you in person, John. That is why I waited. I did not think a few more days would matter." She still wasn't looking at his face, even though he had leaned forward and taken her hands. They were icy. "I am sorry that you did not have the chance to begin the binding with our son, before he...was gone."

At that, he let go her hands, looking away from her momentarily, trying to process her words. Echoes from the time flash merged with the present..._we have a son...no longer the case ...we have David...our son, gone. _He shook his head to clear it, and turned back to her. She was sitting so still he couldn't even see her breathe. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you." He moved to the couch to sit beside her, taking her into his arms, saying "It'll be all right," over and over, as if trying to convince himself as much as her. As her body began to relax against his, then to shake in reaction to the release of tension, he thought to himself, _I can't tell her about the twenty years, not now. _Maybe later, part of him thought. Maybe never.

Delenn allowed herself to seek out the comfort she craved, although she knew she was still denying herself the final release. Later, she thought. I will deal with that later. "John, there is something I must ask of you."

"What is it?" He tried not to sound wary, but the obvious reluctance in her voice concerned him. Was she afraid to confide in him?

"No one must know of this. No one here knows, aside from the healers, who are pledged to secrecy, and of course, Lennier..."

"Of course." He tried to keep the anger out of his voice. He didn't know whether he was angry at Lennier, or the circumstances in general. "But why tell no one?" He followed that question with the obvious answer, "It's a problem, isn't it? In your culture, I mean?"

"Yes."

That single syllable spoke volumes. He sighed. "It's not something I feel like announcing, or discussing, with anyone but you. You'll have to explain your traditions to me so I understand how badly we've transgressed them."

"We can talk about that later. What did you want to tell me?" she asked, not wishing, at that moment to go further into the possible disastrous ramifications among her people, and the implications for the future. Having achieved a fragile peace within herself, she didn't want to imperil it. While it was secret, she was safe. So was he.

"Nothing. It's not important." He continued stroking her hair, wishing there was more he could do.

At his words, she felt a sharp pang of doubt, which rapidly turned to disbelief, and then to despair. He is not speaking the truth, she thought. He does not trust me, not any more; not after Anna, not after Z'ha'dum, not after this. She turned her head into his chest, closing her eyes to this stark reality, willing herself to accept this new distance between them. He had returned, but not to her, not completely. There was a wall of secrets building between them, threatening to sever the ties that bound them together. There were secrets from the past, from the present, and if she had known it, from the future as well.

"She's done it, Lennier!" Marcus' joyous shout echoed in the sparsely inhabited crew quarters aboard the White Star. "She's got the station back!"

Lennier had been meditating, and rose in one fluid motion to his feet. He hastened to the comscreen on the wall, where the image of John Sheridan was announcing their imminent return to Babylon 5.

Privately, Marcus thought it was the happiest expression he'd seen on Sheridan's face since their arrival at Trigor. Both he and Delenn were treating each other like they were made of spun glass, a far cry from the joyful intimacy of their initial reunion. Still, they were going back, to the station, and to Susan. He wondered how that would work out...there was still a war on, after all. Who knows where they would end up? He couldn't keep the smile from his face, though, no matter how hard he tried.

"That is excellent news," said Lennier. "We need to get back." His expression was unreadable.

Marcus knew there was no use asking, but he did anyway. "Why? Is it something to do with Delenn?" He thought he saw a momentary look of pain cross his friend's face. "Still in the 'can't tell me' phase, are we?"

"You know I cannot." Lennier said tensely. "I only wish I could. I might need some help convincing her..."

"Convincing her of what?" Marcus couldn't help it. His curiosity, and his anxiety, had been growing.

"Ask her, Marcus. If she tells you, I can speak of it. Otherwise, let it be. You know I am bound to keep her secrets." The Minbari moved back across the room, picking up his tunic from the floor and donning it. "I must go. There will be much to do in preparation for our departure."

Why not, he thought as he walked quickly to Delenn and Sheridan's quarters, hoping to catch her alone. Maybe she could use someone to talk to, someone besides Sheridan and Lennier. He'd been watching her fade before his eyes; moving, talking, working, but always with a distance in her expression that disturbed him greatly. It was not a cold detachment, as when she'd attempted to complete the Aia'sa'dum; this was a gentle wistfulness that was sympathetic yet still disconnected in some vital way. When he reached the door, he hesitated, wondering if Sheridan would be there, then remembered that the message he'd just seen had come from the bridge. If she was there, she would be alone.

She met him at the door. "Marcus, come in. It is good news, is it not? Susan has been quite efficient. And the fleet is ready to move on as well. John has sent out messages to our allies. We will gather at the station, and await Lorien's return."

Smiling, he entered the room. "It is marvellous news. Can't wait to get back, although I don't suppose we'll be staying long."

The smile slipped from her face, and she answered solemnly, "The Shadows have begun to move again, as have the Vorlons. The crisis is upon us, and you are right. There will be little time to rejoice in this good fortune."

"Speaking of crises, I'd like to know what is going on with you and Sheridan."

Her expression grew cool, and her body stiffened. "I fail to see how that is any of your concern."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong." Marcus stepped further into the room, indicating that she should sit. He took a seat opposite her. "This movement, this Army of Light, is terribly dependent on its leaders. When one of them was believed killed, for instance, the whole thing faltered until the other took up the mantle. Now there's something going on between the two of you, particularly with you, and it's becoming obvious to the rank and file. Dissension at the top is seldom in the best interests of the people at the bottom. Lennier knows what's going on, why not tell me? Maybe I can help."

The bleakness in her eyes shook him for a moment. This was something personal, and he suddenly wondered if he should be asking this of her. Perhaps it would be best to let her bury whatever it was, deep inside, until the war was over. He'd had some experience with that option. They sat in silence; both trying to decide what was the best course of action.

A chime sounded on the monitor, then a voice announced there was an incoming transmission for Delenn. Marcus made a motion as if to leave her to take the message privately, but she gestured for him to stay. There was no accompanying video, but the message was succinct enough. 'A representative of your clan will arrive within two days to register the new member. Please respond when this message is received."

Marcus stared at her for a moment. "New member?" His mind raced, and then fastened on a startling idea, "Are congratulations in order then?"

She shook her head, her lips tightly closed. Forcing out the words, she said, "They might have been. At one time." Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she fought for composure. "This is going to be difficult." Standing and approaching the monitor, she hit a few keys, then pushed the button to send the return message. "I have told them that we are leaving here, and cannot delay to await the messenger. Also that there is no longer a reason for them to come in any case. I do not know how this information will be received." She returned to her seat, and studied Marcus' face closely. "You understand what has happened?"

"Well," he started to say, then paused as if searching for the proper words and phrases. "A new clan member might have meant a child, but I gather that is not the case, or isn't any more. Am I close?"

She nodded, "Close enough. I must contact John. The fact that this is becoming known may have greater impact than he suspects."

"He does know, then?" Marcus couldn't believe he was asking this, but it was possible she'd kept the whole thing a secret, even from Sheridan.

"He knows there was a child. He does not know what the involvement of my clan may mean. To me, to my...status."

Marcus said gently, "May I offer my condolences on your loss?"

She closed her eyes a moment, then said, "Minbari believe that children come where they are wanted. Perhaps I did not want this child enough."

"I don't believe that," Marcus replied forcefully. "You have always fought for life."

"Yes," she whispered, her eyes now open, and clearly haunted by ghosts of both past and future. "Life is my cause. Yet all I bring is death." Clearing her throat of strangled tears, she said, "Could you find John, and bring him here? We need to talk, and not over the com system."

"I would be happy to." He fought to keep the pity from his voice. That was not what she wanted, or needed, now. "I'll alert the fleet captains that we may need to move quickly." At her nod, he stood and walked towards the door. Looking back, he saw her sitting painfully erect and perfectly still, as if bracing for a storm.

They entered the system with a show of force unequalled in modern times. As Commander Ivanova stood at the viewport in C&C, she thought to herself that she'd never seen so many ships, representing so many races, gathered in one place. It was almost a shame that what brought them together was a common threat, but that was often the way of things. The welcoming ceremony would be enthusiastic, but short. There was so much to do. As she turned to leave her post, a lieutenant told her there was an incoming message from Minbar. "I'll take it in the Captain's office," she said, her heart warming at the thought that soon John would re-take his rightful place there, and she could go back to her supportive position. Not that she hadn't enjoyed her brief stint in command; in fact, she rather thought she'd done a good job, considering the circumstances. She'd always wanted a command eventually; a ship, maybe one of the long distance exploration vessels like the Cortez. Reaching the office, she sat at the desk, and listened carefully to the message. It came from the highest diplomatic level on Minbar, and after it was over, she sat back in her chair. No rest for the wicked, she thought. It never rained but it poured. How many cliches could she think of that would cover the never-ending series of crises that seemed to be their lot? As she rose from the chair, she decided to put it to the back of her mind. John was back, and Delenn...and Marcus; which led to other types of thoughts, ones that were a good deal more pleasant, although almost as confusing.

The arriving party included John, Delenn, Marcus, and Lennier and a half dozen Rangers. Susan met them at the debarkation bay, with a small escort of guards, and hurried them along with promises of only a short speech, followed by a brief debriefing, then perhaps a very small meeting with some members of the War Council. John was still rolling his eyes at this itinerary when they were approached by a trio of Minbari. There looked to be one of each caste. The were carrying a scroll of paper, off-white with gold, red, and blue stripes along the edge. The religious caste male came up to Delenn, giving her a curt bow, almost an insult to one of her rank, and handed her the scroll. He took a moment to greet Lennier, and the two Minbari Rangers with a silent bow, then the three of them turned and left, without speaking a word during the exchange. Delenn was holding the scroll to her breast, looking after them with a mix of shame and defiance.

"What was that all about?" asked John, trying to read her expression.

"Nothing," she replied curtly. Then, with an attempt at a smile, she said, "I will deal with it later. Commander Ivanova has a full schedule planned. We mustn't keep her waiting." Indeed Ivanova had moved away from them, and was chatting with Marcus.

John looked over at Lennier, who couldn't hide his concern. Turning back to Delenn, he asked, "Aren't you going to look at it?" He gestured towards the scroll.

She shook her head, and clutched it tightly. "Not now. It can wait." She moved towards Ivanova, saying "We had best go. They are expecting us."

John thought to himself that he'd seldom heard her sound less convincing. She'd already told him some of the possible ramifications of their situation, the possible reactions back home. This looked to be the first fallout, but he'd have to wait and find out how bad it was later. It was important that they present a united and confident front to the people waiting. Most of them still weren't sure he was still alive. He followed her down the corridor and caught up with Ivanova, who promptly distracted him with station news and updates.

They walked through the Zocalo to the large open space at one end. The four of them, John, Delenn, Susan, and G'Kar ascended the staircase to the same walkway where Susan had given her speech just days before. John said a few suitably stirring words, then asked that everyone be patient, and stay calm. He let them know that they intended to resist their enemies, and that the fleet was reliant on their support and backing. There were a few cheers, but the mood was more one of grim determination than rejoicing. At least until the Narns starting singing as assortment of weirdly off-key battle songs. Ivanova led the group through back ways to the War Room, where the members of the Council who were still aboard the station awaited them. She remarked to G'Kar that it was no wonder the Narns were such fierce warriors; given they must have to fight off hordes of music lovers of all races, coming to stop their caterwauling. After a brief but intense discussion of the meaning of the term, they came to their destination.

At the door, they were met by the members of the League who were on the War Council. They milled about Sheridan and Delenn, talking, wondering, asking questions. The two of them handled it like they were born to it, neatly separating them into groups according to their queries and the appropriate person to answer them, working the unwieldy group of ambassadors and envoys like trained sheepdogs. Susan watched them in amazement; that sort of co-ordination generally came from years of working together. She and John had the beginnings of it, and certainly Delenn and John had been working together on and off for the last two years, but this was uncanny. It was like they were two parts of the same unit, and it was impressive. She began to get almost a good feeling about their upcoming trials with these two leading their side.

It wasn't long before she gestured to Lennier and Marcus to come over. "Let's break this up. They're just repeating themselves now, asking for reassurance more than information. Time to shut it down." Marcus nodded, and worked his way towards G'Kar, while Lennier headed for Delenn. She took Sheridan aside, and said, "Better let me chase them out, John. Otherwise they'll keep you here all night. Delenn looks like she's about to drop, and she's kept a death grip on that scroll. You know what that's about?"

"I've got an idea, but I hope to hell I'm wrong. You think she looks tired?" His voice was uncertain, worried, and oddly subdued.

"You could always ask her how she feels," Susan said, a little exasperated. Whatever was going on, she didn't want to get in the middle of it. Unless, of course she had to. Which brought something else to mind. "Let me get this over with. We need to talk."

She loudly announced that they needed some time to deal with station business, and asked the various ambassadors to forgive them, but it was urgent. G'Kar helped Marcus see them out, but it took a while, as some wanted one last word, or to say a formal good-bye to either the Captain or to Delenn. Lennier was unobtrusively supporting Delenn, who was growing paler the longer the farewells went on. Finally they were alone, and Lennier made sure immediately that she sat down. John took one look at her, and asked the others to give them a moment. Susan started to say something, but John cut her off. "I just need a minute, Susan. I'll be right with you."

She replied, "I'll wait in your office."

Lennier kept his position on Delenn's right side, until she softly asked him to wait outside the door. He directed his bow to her, with only a sideways glance at Sheridan, before he left with Marcus and Susan. G'Kar excused himself, saying he had other duties to which he must attend.

Finally, they were alone, and John sat down beside her, sighing heavily. "You want to look at it now? Or wait until morning?"

She shook her head, untying the grey ribbon, and unfolding the soft creamy paper on her lap. John barely glanced at the Minbari script, instead choosing to study her expression as she read. Her lips were pressed together into a thin line, and her face was bloodless. He waited until she rolled the paper up, and carefully tied the ribbon around it before he asked, "Well? What did they have to say?"

"It is mal'cra," she said in a steady voice. "Worse than I feared, but not entirely unexpected."

He didn't know what to say, so he put his arms around her. "We can deal with this. There must be some kind of system to appeal the decision..."

"I will have to investigate it. It has been used so infrequently, not for a hundred years or more. Perhaps there is something to be done, but it would take time to find out what it is and to do it. Time we do not have."

"Then we'll ignore it. No one who knows you will care!"

She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could stay within the safe confines of his embrace forever. "Every Minbari on this station, every Minbari on our warships, every Minbari Ranger, will be informed of this. Some of them, you are correct, will not care. Others will. It is those we must be concerned with; those who may chose not to be associated with me any longer. Who will no longer follow me."

"And you think they'll want to follow me after this? It's not like I wasn't involved, Delenn!"

"You are not Minbari. They might allow you some leeway for not knowing our traditions. You cannot be responsible for breaking a rule of which you are unaware."

He ran one hand through his hair, trying to think of something else to say. "Let's just play it by ear then. We'll know soon enough if there's going to be a problem." He looked down at her weary face and said, "You should get some rest." Trying to lighten the atmosphere, he added, "Your place or mine?" At her visible wince, he added hastily, "I mean, we've been sharing quarters…I don't know what would be best…given the circumstances."

"I will go to my quarters. I feel a great need for familiar surroundings. Perhaps you could stop by when you are finished with Susan?" She stood up, and leaded down to pick up the scroll from the couch. "I will take this with me. There are references to the relevant traditions in it; perhaps I can find some exception or appeal, as you suggested."

"You want me to come with you?" he suggested, suddenly wondering if it would be safe for her in the corridors.

"I will ask Lennier to accompany me. I first need to find out if he will."

John was outright shocked at this. "You mean, this might be a problem with him?"

Delenn headed for the door, where she expected Lennier to be waiting. "I do not think you are taking this as seriously as you should, John." Opening the door, she asked Lennier to step inside. She handed him the scroll, and waited for him to read the lines written there.

He looked up at her, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "You expected this?"

She smiled wearily at him, "I hoped it would not come to this, but yes, I expected it. You did not?"

"I did. It is tradition, even if it is an old and seldom used tradition. What are you going to do?" asked Lennier.

"I am going to my quarters to rest, and think, and consider any options I might have. I do not believe there is any danger, but.."

Lennier interrupted her, with a slight smile playing on his lips, "I will accompany you. I am certain the Captain would do so if he did not have other duties to attend to."

John cleared his throat, "I was supposed to meet Susan." Turning towards Delenn, he caught hold of her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I'll stop by later and see how you are doing. Do you want me to send someone from Security…?"

Lennier said definitively, "That will not be necessary, Captain." He walked towards the door, and waited for Delenn to precede him out of the room. John watched them go in silence, the two of them joined at some level that he could not understand or participate in.

Marcus was waiting with Susan in the office. When John entered, he got the distinct impression he was interrupting something. Keeping his smile to himself, he thought that might be the best news he'd had all day. He watched them settle onto the couch, next to each other, but carefully apart. He sat in the chair facing them, and said, "Let's make this as short as we can, Susan. I know there must be a million things we need to talk about, but it's been a very long day."

Susan quickly went through a bullet list of items that varied from real emergencies to upcoming issues that could blow up quickly into emergencies. John gave short, to-the-point commands on some, stopped to discuss a few, and merely acknowledged the ones that were informational. Finally she ran out of steam, then hesitated, looking at her superior's drawn face as he read over the last report she'd handed him.

John looked up at the sudden silence, and said, "OK, there's something more. Go ahead. Out with it."

"Just before you arrived, I got a formal message from Minbar, concerning Delenn. They told me they were re-evaluating her appointment as ambassador and that they would not consider themselves bound by any of her decisions. What's happened, John? "

John set back in his chair, with a look that teetered between sadness and anger. "She's been declared mal'cra, outcast, with all that entails in a rigid caste society. I imagine she will lose the ambassadorship, probably her role as leader of the Rangers, her place in society, for all I know her whole identity, her name, certainly her honour. Hell, I don't know. I only recently found out about it myself," he said tiredly.

Susan didn't turn at Marcus' sudden intake of breath, instead looking to John for more information. She said in dismay, "This could be bad. Can we count on the Minbari war cruisers? What about the Rangers?"

"She's talking about stepping down as Entil'zha...I guess she thinks that might help." John replied.

Marcus broke in, "That's not an option. If she steps down, at least half the Anla'Shok won't accept it. I honestly don't think the declaration will matter to most of them. The Grey Council has never been a big backer of our group anyway. More polite sufferance of an outdated and unnecessary tradition, actually." He added, uncertain how much to reveal, "This is their reaction to what happened then?"

John looked at him suspiciously, "What do you know about what happened?"

He shrugged, "I went to talk to her, and was there when the notification came in from her clan that they were coming to Trigor. She confirmed what I guessed from that announcement." He was carefully not looking at Susan, not wanting to keep her in the dark, but it wasn't his secret to reveal.

Susan looked from one to the other, "Anyone care to enlighten me? Or do I just act on what information I've been given?"

John stood up and went over to one of the display cases in the corner of the room. He stood with his back to her, seemingly studying the artwork in the case. As if from a distance, he heard his voice telling Susan the bare facts of the matter. He found he couldn't bear to turn and see the shock and sympathy in her eyes. After a brief silence, he felt a hand lightly fall on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, John. It's a hell of a thing...how's Delenn coping?"

This is what I hate most, he thought to himself. The offers of sympathy, the caring outreach when all I want to do is bury what I'm feeling down so deep I'll never find it again. It reminded him of Anna, once again. He'd said good-bye too many times recently; this was too much. "She's fine," he said shortly, wishing he believed it.

"How about you?" Susan asked uncertainly.

"I'm fine too." Turning, he gave her a brief, reassuring smile. "Now, are we done here? I'm sure it'll be an early morning...have you set anything up for me yet?"

"Not yet. There's a War Council meeting set for the afternoon. You want to keep your morning clear?"

"No, I'll come up to C&C as usual. It'll be good to see the place. I feel like I've been away for a year." He looked over at Marcus. "What about you? Did Delenn give you any instructions?"

"Not as such. I'm going to shoot over to the White Stars that stayed behind and update the Rangers aboard in person." He added, hesitantly, "I'll be able to gauge reaction to the Minbari declaration...the news should be well disseminated by then."

"Good. Let me know what the feeling is on the ground. And Marcus, when you get back, you might put out some feelers in the Minbari community on the station as well."

"Lennier's the man for that. He knows almost every Minbari here, and their occupations, and their family histories. A great one for detail, is Lennier. It's one reason he's such an invaluable aide."

"All right. I'll talk to him tomorrow. Or maybe tonight if he's still around. I'm heading for Delenn's quarters, see how she's doing. I may not stay, it depends." He headed for the door, pausing only to throw a 'good night' over his shoulder.

Susan and Marcus watched him go in silence, then looked at each other. Susan let out a puff of breath that lifted a few strands of hair that had come loose from its tight knot at the base of her neck. Marcus manfully restrained himself from gently tucking it behind her ear, and said, "I suppose you have places to be and people to see?"

"Not right away," she said slowly. "Sit down for a minute. I need to think this through, and I'd like your opinion. You know more about Minbari culture than I do."

Marcus laughed, but took a seat on the couch, laying both arms along the back. "I suppose. But they're a complex people, and the Rangers are a distinctly unique subset of Minbari. I've had the most contact with them, and the Anla'Shok tends to attract unconventional types."

Susan settled down next to him, aware of his presence in ways she didn't want to stop and think about, and said, "Unconventional and Minbari. Not two words I normally put together."

"The Minbari adhere to a common code and ascribe to the same beliefs but they vary as much inside as any of us. They may not show their thoughts and feelings as much as most, but that doesn't mean they don't have them."

"So, what does this mal'cra thing entail? Are they going to do anything to her, or is it some kind of a shunning thing?"

"If it was just that, I wouldn't worry so much. She's been through that sort of thing already, and managed to change enough minds that she's closed it down, at least on the station. It's different back on Minbar. The things she went through after that incident with EarthForce..." he shook his head at the memory.

Susan sighed, "I guess I always suspected there were some repercussions, but we don't hear much about the inner workings of their government. She's the face of her people to us. And she doesn't tell us everything. Not by a long shot."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, "And you tell her everything that comes down from EarthGov?"

Susan smiled wryly. "Not hardly. I get your point." She rubbed the back of her neck. "It's been a rough few days. I didn't even get to ask John about Garibaldi. I've got him in the brig, but I have no idea what to do with him."

"Let him rot, I say."

Susan shot him a quick look. No, he wasn't kidding. "I don't know, Marcus. Something's going on with him. He hasn't been himself since he came back. He feels...wrong somehow. Zack thinks so too."

"Has Stephen found anything wrong with him?"

"No. Physically he's fine, the same old Michael." She sighed. "I wish we could figure it out. We could use him in this fight." Looking down at her hands, which were clenched tightly, she went on, "Besides, I miss having him around."

Marcus laid one hand lightly on hers. "Too bad Lyta isn't here. She might be able to tell if he's under some outside influence. We never did find out what happened to him while he was missing." Marcus looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps he's Shadow-tainted. Like the Captain's wife."

"You think they took him and put him into one of their machines?" asked Susan in horror.

"I don't know. Doesn't seem like there was enough time to do that. Still he must have been somewhere. G'Kar didn't have much luck tracing his movements; neither did I." He smiled at her and said, "You want me to go look some more?"

She shook her head, "No, if they did something, they've covered their tracks pretty thoroughly. We'll have to deal with it from this side." Leaning back against the couch cushions, she said, "I've been thinking about First Ones."

"And here I'd hoped you'd been thinking about me," Marcus said lightly. "What about 'em?"

"We could use some more firepower. What if we lose some of the Minbari and the Rangers? We need everyone we can get. While I was on Epsilon Three, I mentioned our last trip to Zathras..."

"You didn't," said Marcus aghast.

Susan sat up straight and tugged at her tunic, ending with her hands loosely clasped in her lap. She tried not to notice Marcus watching appreciatively. "I did. The Great Machine has tremendous capabilities, you know. It has records of the last locations of the First Ones, and Zathras found some information on finding them. He's been working on it for a while now...some kind of machine, a tracking system."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "That's all we need. I remember the time stabilizers. Wonderful bits of technology those were. Fell apart if you breathed on them."

"They did not!" Susan started to say, in fiery defense of her new friend. She stopped when she saw the expression on Marcus' face. "Stop teasing. I don't like it." Self-deprecating laughter lay behind her surface anger.

Marcus saw his chance and took it. "What do you like, Susan? What do you want me to do? I came back. Just like you asked. Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?" His voice had gone low, but a buried growl in it that revealed the depth of his emotion.

"I..." Susan started to answer, but was distracted by Marcus' shifting himself closer to her, and then softly stroking the open palm of her hand with the ball of his thumb. His thigh was pressed up against hers, and she found herself wishing she could feel the muscles bunched in it, run her hands up and down his...

"Marcus," she said unsteadily, "I think I need to go now."

"Fine," he said silkily, putting his head next to hers and whispering the words in her ear. "I'll go with you." His warm breath played against her cheek.

"Not now," she said, her voice growing more firm. She stood up, and stumbled slightly. He caught hold of her hand as if to steady her, but used it instead to pull her down into his arms. "I came back. For you. For this." She fell against him, and his mouth found hers.

She felt as if she was falling off a cliff. It was terrifying, and yet blissful. After a moment, she pulled back, and said in a ragged voice. "I'm not ready for this."

He looked at her, his eyes dark and dangerous. "I rather think you are." Then he stood abruptly and pulled her up from the couch so that she was standing in front of him, looking directly in his eyes. "But I'd prefer it if you were more certain. Good night, Susan. Let me know if you want to go hunting First Ones again." He stalked towards the door and left the room, his cloak swirling behind him.

The next morning Lennier approached Delenn's quarter with unease. He'd already received several messages from Minbari on the station wanting to know what to do. There were so many little chores that he and Delenn performed for them; trade agreements, assistance with import and export permits, various permissions and forms for travel and settlement. He did the bulk of the background work on these matters, with Delenn signing off on them or disapproving them as she deemed proper. Now they wanted to know who they should come to with their petitions and grievances; and he had no idea what to tell them. The Council's pronouncement of mal'cra should have been followed by the appointment of a new ambassador to handle these matters, or at least a temporary arrangement. Nothing further had been heard from them except the message Commander Ivanova had received and the official declaration that had been served on Delenn. If he was to follow the dictates of that declaration, he should have no further contact with her, yet here he was, going about his work as usual. He understood why they'd felt compelled to take this action; he was unhappy about her flouting of their traditions as well. Still, it was Delenn they were judging, and punishing. How had everything gone so wrong, so quickly? He tried to push aside his own feelings. There was a war to fight, and people to serve. It would be best if he stuck to his job, and let the issue move forward on its own.

When he entered the room, Delenn was sitting in the living area, in front of the comscreen, a cup of tea on the low table in front of her. He bowed, then sat across from her in silence awaiting her attention. She was scrolling quickly through messages, marking them for answers in order of priority when she stopped suddenly, her hands frozen on the screen. He waited a moment, then his curiosity got the better of him. He could not read the expression on her face when he asked, "What is it, Delenn? May I be of service in some way?"

She answered. "No, but thank you for the offer. It is a message from Neroon."

Lennier managed to hid his surprise. "And what does Alyt, I mean Satai, Neroon have to say? Have they appointed a new ambassador? Have they reconsidered their position?"

She shook her head silently. "It is an interesting message. I must think on it further." She paused, then sighed as she blanked the screen. "I have known Neroon a long time, Lennier. And no one is exactly what they seem to be on the surface."

Her aide acknowledged the truth of her statement with a brief nod, then went on speaking, "We have had many questions from the Minbari living on the station. They have needs, and do not know to whom to address their petitions." He ended on a subtle questioning note.

"You should handle these matters for now. The decree spoke only against my decisions. As far as official notification goes, you are unaffected. Consider yourself aide to the ambassador to come. It may well be that you will be replaced. It would be foolish, but there it is. If you wish to petition the Council for a clarification of your position, I would support that, although I do not know if my support would help or hinder your request."

Lennier lowered his gaze from hers, seemingly studying his hands, which rested lightly on his knees. "I am uncertain as to my path, Delenn."

"I would help you if I could. But I fear that my help is not what you need." Her friend's silence hurt more than she had thought it would. "Is there any question you would ask of me?"

Every part of him yearned to speak, or even shout, his question. Why? It was the question that haunted him, night and day. Why had she broken with their traditions? Why had she

ignored the proper rituals and the normal order of events? Were her feelings so strong, the times so dire? Or was it as he feared most, that she had changed so much, that she was no longer Minbari, deep in her soul? He could not bring himself to ask, for he feared the answer too much to risk the hearing. A turn in the road had been reached, and his deepest fear was that he could not follow her where she was going. Opening his mouth to speak, watching the mixture of apprehension and longing in her eyes, he closed it again. "There is nothing I require of you."

She lowered her eyes to hide the tears of relief, and the hint of prophetic fear. "Then we should begin our work. If you agree, I will go through these petitions, but any announcements or decisions should come with your imprimatur. I believe it would be best to let it be known that I am still unwell, at least with non-Minbari...do you agree?"

"I..." he hesitated.

She broke in, "The healers told me to rest and avoid work for some weeks yet. It is not untrue, only convenient."

He smiled at that. "Then that is what we will say." He picked up a stack of files. "Let us start with these."

Susan, meanwhile, was having a hard time convincing John that her idea was a good one. "We still have some time. Lorien isn't back yet, and you said you didn't want to act until he and Lyta return. Wouldn't it be good to have some more back-up? Whatever your ultimate plan is, you've told me that the more beings that are on our side the better. Draal is convinced that Zathras' device will work. I'd like to give it a try. Let me take one White Star...I'll check in twice a day. We can get back quickly enough to join the assault, or whatever it is you're going to do." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "It would be good to know a little more about your plan, John."

He shook his head, "It's a little...out there, and I'd like to have a little more time to work out how to present it to the Council." He looked at her challenging stare, and said, "I'll go over it with you when you get back. There isn't much time for this, Susan. Try the device, then get back here if there's no response. When Lorien arrives, we're setting things in motion, and if you're not here, we won't have time to wait for you."

"I'll be back. I don't want to be left out of this. No protection, no staying behind. Not this time."

"You'll be there. You have my word. Now get going before I change my mind."

Susan started to leave, then paused for a moment. "I was thinking of taking Marcus along..." She flushed as John gave her a look which spoke of things he wanted to say but wouldn't; at least not then. "For translation purposes. My Minbari is getting better, but you know, in the heat of the moment..."

John said seriously, "Of course. It would be prudent to take him." Then he smiled and added, "He's very useful, in the heat of the moment." He left it at that, but her flush deepened anyway at the slight emphasis she thought she heard on the word 'heat'.

"There's one more thing," she broke in, as John's attention was drawn back to the papers in his hand. "What are we going to do about Garibaldi?"

John's expression turned serious again. "I have no idea. Keep him confined, I suppose. How can we trust him at this point? We have no way of knowing what he's thinking, whether he's changed his mind...again. Stephen says there's no evidence of physical or psychological tampering that he can see; no scarring on the neck, no damage..."

Susan replied, "I've read the reports, but something's wrong with him. This isn't just a change of mind, or a sudden attack of the vapors. Someone got to him, and he knows it. There's fear behind his eyes, I can see it. I can sense it! We have to find a way to help him."

"I agree. But we just don't have the time, even if we knew what to do. Maybe later, after this is all over..." John looked at Susan's determined expression, "We'll try to help him, Susan. I promise, I just can't say when."

Susan nodded. "Maybe when Lyta gets back, we can ask her to take a look. If Michael agrees," she added hastily.

"I suppose. If he agrees; I'm not forcing him into anything."

John looked distracted and Susan wondered if he had even heard her. She thought privately that they all might find themselves doing things they would never have done before.

John reassured her, "It might work. Until then, he stays locked up. I'll try to get down to see him later today and see what he has to say for himself." He looked at her, his eyes sunken and dark with the weight of responsibility. "You'd better get going. I need you back here, as soon as possible."

"I'll be back, and with reinforcements." Susan gave him a brisk nod, and left quickly.

John watched her go, with some amusement breaking through his mood. Marcus made Susan a little crazy at the best of times, and adding Zathras into the mix; well, he hoped the combination wouldn't drive her mad.

Susan was not going mad. She was irritated, true, and growing annoyed. Possibly she might become angry eventually, but she was still sane. For now. Marcus and Zathras had cheerfully torn open the panel underneath one of the sensor arrays behind her chair on the White Star bridge. They had been banging on things with tools and attempting to install the device Zathras had built according to the Great Machine's design. Said device was supposedly going to modify their sensors to help them find at least some of the 'First Ones'. Susan wasn't even sure she really believed in the 'First Ones'. Still, 'hers was not to reason why…' She couldn't remember the rest of the poem. "Marcus?" she called back over her shoulder, "How does this go…_Their's not to reason why_…"

Marcus replied from his back on the floor, without looking up, or losing his grip on the panel he was holding, "_Their's not to reason why. Their's but to do or die. Into the valley of death rode the six hundred_. Charge of the Light Brigade. Alfred, Lord Tennyson."

"He must have been part Russian," muttered Susan. "How is it going back there? We are almost to the first sector on the list Draal gave us of possible locations."

"Zathras almost done. Not sure device will work. Great Machine did not design with Vorlon-Minbari ship in mind."

Marcus slid the panel he was holding back in place. "Time to fire her up. Let's go hunting First Ones!"

Zathras adjusted two more fasteners, then ran his hands over the activation crystals. The device lit up, and started making a pinging noise.

"Is that what it's supposed to do?" asked Susan. "Does it 'ping' faster or louder when we get near a First One?"

Marcus snickered, "Maybe it starts to 'pong' instead. Or sends up flares. Or chants...'Fee Fi Fo Fum..."

Susan broke in, "That's enough from you! Zathras," she added, "What does it do exactly?"

Zathras had been looking at the interplay between the two of them curiously. Humans were a mystery to him. Then again, he thought philosophically, most species were a mystery to him. His kind had vanished from the universe, so far as he knew, and only the Zathri left on Epsilon Three remained. Noting Susan's look of appeal, he gave her one of his most ingratiating smiles. "First Ones not travel through space and time like us. Use ships, but they also move through the Universe..." Here he made a slip-sliding motion with his hands moving over and under each other, "like groundworms through rock. Leaves trail...a resonance in space. Faint, but device can see." He nodded enthusiastically, wondering if they understood. It was hard to put things simply enough for them sometimes. It was not like talking to his clutch-brothers, or to Draal who had the assistance of the Great Machine.

Susan tilted her head as if considering the outline he'd given, then asked again, "What indication will the device give if it detects this resonance?"

"Zathras not sure." Here he paused to give his point emphasis, wanting to reassure her. He liked this female. She trusted Zathras. He appreciated that. "But we will know. That is truth." At Susan's nod of acceptance, he grinned at Marcus, and went back to monitoring the display.

Marcus and Susan hadn't been gone for long when the situation on the station began to deteriorate, and from an unaccustomed source. There had always been a Minbari presence on the station as they were one of the the founding, and funding, races behind the whole Babylon idea. The outgrowth of the peace treaty between the humans and the Minbari after their Great War ended in 2248, Babylon 5 had rapidly became more than a diplomatic and commercial outpost; it was a refuge, and for some, a sanctuary. The Minbari who lived there were mostly diplomats or merchants and their staffs, but there were a few who chose to live there, who found the interaction between species not only tolerable, but stimulating.

This was still a rare attitude among Minbari however, and as news of the declaration of mal'cra against Ambassador Delenn spread through the station, there was much consternation, and condemnation. It was one thing to tolerate, or even appreciate, the company of outsiders; it was another to consider joining with one. Delenn had deliberately used the time-honoured rituals of her caste, in an attempt to reassure both herself and others, that this was the true calling of her heart, and as such, it was due respect and tolerance, if not acceptance. For some Minbari, however, this only made the situation worse. And once her own caste had declared mal'cra, there were those who felt free to take action. Not every Minbari on the station approved of Delenn's choices, the ones she had made for herself, and the ones she had made for her people. Now those who were disaffected felt free to remove what they felt to be a stain on the honour of all Minbari.

The day started normally enough. She rose early, as usual, and performed her morning meditation. After she had showered and begun to dress, she heard the door chime, and said "Open" without thinking, pulling on a robe. As she entered the main room she saw four Minbari standing there. Two were warrior caste males and unknown to her. The others were religious caste; the male she recognized, Sarthenn, the other one was a female, also unknown. She gave the ritual greeting and was about to ask how she could serve them, when she notice one of the warriors had picked up the scroll from her clan and was reading it. "That is personal. Please put it down." she commanded, in as imperious a voice as she could manage in a bathrobe.

"So it is confirmed. We had heard rumours, but this settles it. You are no longer of Mir-your clan has set you aside in disgrace, mal'cra," he almost spat the word at her. A flutter of fear reached her heart, but not her eyes or voice.

"Yes, it is confirmed by your prying. Please leave my quarters now, if there is nothing further that I can do for you." replied Delenn.

The other warrior circled around behind her, while the two religious caste members looked at her with disgust. The female went up to her and took her chin in her hand, roughly turning her face this way and that. "I cannot for the life of me see what anyone, even a human, would find attractive in that face." She turned Delenn's face towards the front again, then spat in it. "Mal'cra is too good for you. The rumour also says you might be breeding? Is this true?"

Delenn's hands instinctively went to her mid-section, still tender from her loss. Now the fear had reached her eyes.

The warrior behind her grabbed her arms and pinioned them behind her back. "We are here to regain Minbar's lost honour, Delenn of nothing," he whispered in her ear. "We cannot allow a child to be born…now or ever."

Sarthenn came up to her now, with a glass in his hand. "Drink this," he said.

"What is it?" she managed to gasp.

"Something that will help," he replied, and offered it again. When she shook her head, the female took hold of it, holding her still as Sarthenn tipped the liquid down her throat. It poured over her face and down her chin, but a good deal made it into her mouth. "Be still, Delenn. It will not harm you."

The last thing she remembered hearing was the warrior's voice, whispering in her ear, telling her that the drug would remove the abomination she carried, that any part of her that reacted badly to the drug would be the human part. "I have killed many humans," he said, with smug and righteous pride. "What is one, or two, more?"

Lennier approached Delenn's quarters without apprehension, although he was still torn over his reaction to her predicament. As he rounded the corner, he saw four Minbari leaving. He knew who they were; it was part of his job to know the names and clan affiliations of most Minbari who either worked at or passed through the station, but he couldn't figure out why they had been visiting Delenn. She knew only one of them, and him only in passing. Sarthenn was distantly related to the family Mir. He hit the com button outside the door, but there was no answer from within. He paused for a moment, then shrugged and used his identicard to open the door. He had free entry to Delenn's quarters, as he often needed access when she was unavailable in meetings or when she was off station. As he entered, he sensed something was wrong before his mind registered the awful sight in front of him. Delenn was lying on the floor, only partially clothed, and there was blood, and a dark liquid spilled on the floor and her clothes. He went to her, picked up her hand to check her pulse. She was alive, if barely. Lennier flinched as she moaned when he turned her over. "Delenn!" he cried. "What has happened?"

There was no answer. He raised her up from the floor, but she was unable to stand, although her moans indicated she was alive, if not fully aware. MedLab was too far to carry her; he laid her on the couch, then hit the Babcom unit in panic.

Lennier ran behind the techs, as they raced the gurney carrying Delenn's unconscious body to MedLab. Stephen was waiting at the door, and gestured them into the nearest trauma unit. Lennier watched them, still in disbelief at what had happened.

He looked up as Captain Sheridan came striding rapidly into the waiting area in which he sat. Sheridan stopped and stared at Lennier, who was shaking and pale.

"What happened, Lennier? Where is she? Are you all right?" the words tumbled out in quick succession, even as his gaze flickered back and forth, looking for answers.

"She is with Dr. Franklin, Captain. She was in her quarters," Lennier answered numbly without expression. "I saw them leaving, Captain. They were Minbari…"

Sheridan hit his comlink, "Security!" he almost yelled into it.

"Allan here. What's up, Captain?"

"Executive order, Mr. Allan. No Minbari are to leave the station, as of now! I need security in MedLab, and I need Mr. Garibaldi whether he's fit for duty or not. And I need them ten minutes ago. Sheridan out." He ended communication without waiting to hear Zack's questions. "Wait here, Lennier. Don't go anywhere until Mr. Allan or a security team gets here. You are not to leave this facility without an armed escort. Now I'm going to find out what's going on," he declared grimly. He left the waiting area, and confronted a doctor coming out of the emergency unit. "How is she?" he demanded.

"Dr. Franklin is looking at her now. It looks like some sort of drug, or poison. We administered a general antidote, but a more specific one may be required once we identify precisely what she was given." The doctor tried to look reassuring, but her voice fell away at the burning look in Sheridan's eyes.

Zack Allan came into MedLab at a dead run, with a detail of guards following closely behind, the Captain's scathing commands still ringing in his ears. He was joined momentarily by Garibaldi, in restraints and accompanied by two more guards. They all stopped and stared at the sight of Lennier, his clothing spotted with blood, who sat silently watching Captain Sheridan, who was standing, staring intently into space, clenching his fists over and over again. Zack cleared his throat, and said, "Captain, you wanted to see us?"

"Yes, Mr. Allan." Sheridan said, looking up and clearing his throat. "Send those two guards with Mr. Lennier to his quarters. He'll want to change, but his clothing should be kept as evidence. I do not want him left unguarded; he is a material witness to a crime, and his life may be in danger." Sheridan continued in a more controlled voice, "Zack, I want you to get names from Mr. Lennier, and start a station wide search for four Minbari, three males and one female. I want them found, and I want them jailed. I do not particularly care how or what condition they are in afterwards. Put out an alert if you like, but warn people they are dangerous, and not to approach them."

"Yes sir. What is the charge?" asked Zack.

"Assault on, and the attempted murder of, Ambassador Delenn," he said bleakly. "And they had better pray the charge is not upgraded." Zack's eyes flashed; he nodded abruptly, then left the room after Lennier and the two guards.

Garibaldi closed his eyes. Delenn had been a friend to him before Sheridan had even arrived at the station. "How bad is it, Captain?" he asked.

"Bad enough. I'm still waiting for Stephen to finish his examination." said Sheridan. He hesitated before going on, "Michael…I need you on this. But I still don't know if I can trust you. Ivanova, Susan, thinks something happened to you...while you were gone."

"To tell you the truth, Captain, I don't know what, if anything, happened to me. I still have no memory of that time." Garibaldi stood up straight, and looked at Sheridan. "But I'd like to help. Do we know how she is yet? Can she talk to us, tell us what happened?"

"I don't know; no one's telling me anything for sure," John replied, his voice grim with determination. "If Stephen doesn't get out here soon, I'm going in there."

"Well, you can forget about that." said Stephen from behind him. Taking off his mask and gloves, he dropped to a chair, looking tired and terribly sad. "It was a Minbari drug, an abortifacient, only used in emergency situations to save the life of the mother. The problem is it's reacting badly with her part-human physiology. We've engineered an anti-toxin that should work, but her kidneys have been damaged, and there's some liver involvement." Stephen's voice was clipped in anger. "I think she'll be fine. The Minbari recover from illness and injury quickly, and she still has a good deal of their constitution. Probably be up and around in a couple of days, though if I could mandate it, I'd keep her in bed for a week. Do you have any idea who did this?"

"Some of her own people; Lennier saw them leaving," Sheridan said, his voice tight with disgust.

Garibaldi looked from Franklin to Sheridan, and said "What exactly do you want me to do, Captain? Zack can find them for you, with Lennier's identifications and descriptions."

"I want you to make sure they're the only ones. We are still being protected by Minbari war cruisers, gentlemen. And as much as I would like to throw every Minbari off the station and send all their ships home, we need them. So I need to know who is a danger and who is not. I don't know how you do it, and I don't care, but find out who is still loyal to Delenn." Sheridan said grimly, "If any of them are."

Garibaldi whistled, and said, "You don't ask much, do you? My Minbari sources outside the Rangers are few and far between. And I don't know how the Rangers feel about me after the last few weeks."

"I know it's a difficult assignment. That's why I asked for the best," Sheridan almost smiled, then he said, "Michael, I don't know how Delenn's situation has affected the Rangers. They make a vow to live and die for the One, but the Minbari among them might feel they have to honour the decree of mal'cra. I don't know which way they'll swing. Marcus is off the station with Ivanova, hunting First Ones. The Rangers trusted you; you were their contact here, when Sinclair was their Entil'zha. I think they'll talk to you."

Garibaldi rubbed the back of his neck, considering, then asked, "Mal'cra, what the heck is that?"

"She's been declared outcast. Lennier can tell you more about it," said Sheridan tiredly. "I have to go to her now, Michael. Keep me updated."

"I will. Tell her,…..tell her I'm real sorry. Tell her she's got friends, John." said Garibaldi as he turned to leave. "And thanks for trusting me on this."

"I'll tell her, Michael." replied Sheridan. Then he added, "I'll have two Security guards shadowing you at all times. I want to trust you, but I can't take a chance." He left the room for the private medical suite where Delenn was being transferred.

Zack Allan put out an alert for the four Minbari on station communications, blanketing all channels. He didn't want anyone harboring these people to have the excuse of ignorance to fall back on. Word spread quickly among station personnel, as well as the resident and transient population, human and alien. Most people were shocked at the attack. Rumours flew as to the reasons for it. Many people were repulsed, even disgusted, at the thought of inter-species relationships. Others, however, took a more open-minded view. Many remembered how hard Sheridan and Delenn had fought to protect the station from EarthGov's attempt to take over the station, and their gratitude colored their reactions.

Marcus and Susan remained unaware of the turmoil they had left behind, but neither could ignore the tension that lay between them. They sped from one location to another, letting Zathras' machine confirm their mutual pessimism in their quest. As each attempt ended in failure, Susan became more eager to return to the station, not wanting to stay away too long from what she felt was her primary responsibility. Her mood grew uncertain, and Marcus responded oddly enough by withdrawing. He'd gone from his usual mix of sarcasm and casual banter to a quiet solitary intensity that she found disconcerting. It was a small ship, and still he managed to avoid her in her off hours. She couldn't understand her own reactions; veering from relief that she didn't have to deal with him, and the way he made her feel, to almost...missing him. Finally, one evening as she headed to the small private room she'd requested, she saw him ahead of her in the corridor.

"Marcus!" she called impulsively, striding up to him as he paused in his trek to the meditation room. He had removed his Ranger cloak, and was wearing loose black trousers, soft ankle-high boots, and a black tunic embroidered with symbols in shining grey thread, open at the throat.

"Commander Ivanova. What can I do for you?" he replied, his voice cool, but cordial. She was still in uniform, obviously coming off her shift, all straight lines and neat creases. Even the flowing lines of her Minbari-inspired uniform, designed for ease of movement in battle, looked stiff on her. Her hair was down, but still locked in position, not flowing free as he loved to see it.

"Whatever happened to calling me Susan?" she began, almost indignant. Then, as he remained impassive, she put one hand on his arm, unable to keep her mind from registering the feel of his muscles, like tight wires under her fingers. "I was about to make some tea. I actually have a small kitchen space in my quarters, barely enough room to swing a cat, but it's there. Would you care to join me?" As she spoke, she continued walking toward her door, guiding, almost leading him with the subtle pressure of her hand on his forearm. When they reached the door, she opened it with a quick thumbing of the lock, and turned in the opening to face him. He was close behind her, very close. She'd removed her hair tie as she'd left the bridge, and now she shook her head to loosen the tight coil at her neck. Still keeping one hand on him, wondering at the tension she could feel in him, she asked again, "Are you coming in, or not?"

"Not, I think," he said, gently moving away from her. "I haven't done my meditation for this evening, and I'd like to. It helps."

Her hand fell to her side. "Helps with what?" she asked, wondering at the intense feeling of rejection that left her feeling suddenly lost.

Dark eyes focused on her face. "It helps me deal with being around you." He held out his arms, hands open, palms upwards, and said, "You know how I feel. I haven't hidden anything from you, not for a while. We have a mission, which isn't going well, and when we get back, we'll be heading into battle. Either, or both of us, may die. I would have liked for things to have been different between us, but I can see the possibility that it will never happen. Either because you will never want it to, or because circumstances will prevent it." He waited for a moment, then gestured back to the corridor. "I'd better go."

"Please stay." The words left her lips seemingly without volition. She couldn't seem to leave the doorway, either to leave him and go in or to go out and join him. It felt as if she was on a precipice, about to fall, teetering on the edge of some unseen abyss. She reached up one hand, and laid it aside his face, gently caressing his temple, moving down his cheek to the soft fullness of his neatly trimmed beard.

His eyes closed briefly, in pain or prayer it was impossible to tell. "I told you once before that I needed to know you were ready, that you were certain. Susan, are you?" He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to read her intent and gauge the sincerity in her eyes, wide and unblinking.

"I'm tired of waiting. Is that ready enough for you? And I don't know if I'll ever be certain." She gave him a tight smile. "You might be waiting a long time, if that's your criteria."

"I can wait, if that's what you want." He was gripping her arms now, his fingers almost painfully digging into her flesh.

In answer, she took his face between her hands, and kissed him hard and quick, more attack than seduction. Pausing only a moment, she said "It's not what I want right now." Then, taking him by the hand, she jerked him into her room, shutting the door behind them.

Zathras had watched the scene with interest. Human mating seemed to involved a great deal of discussion, and much coming and going. His people were more direct, but then they had to be pragmatic. It took a village to raise a clutch, as the saying went, and matings had to be approved by everyone that would be involved in caring for the younglings, who were born in groups of eight to ten identical clutch-mates. He wondered what the offspring of the humans would look like. One thing for certain, they wouldn't lack for a decent pelt. He smoothed his own top and side-hair; the color and pattern of hair on head and body showed your clan and family group to everyone. He'd thought the two humans were clutch-mates at first, from the similarity of their pattern, but from their attitudes he had quickly decided they were not that closely related. Perhaps once they'd mated, they would stop trying to avoid each other. Their mission would go more smoothly then. Sucking quietly on his teeth, he headed back to the bridge. Someone should be there who understood his machine, and it looked like it would have to be him. Ah well, he thought philosophically, Zathras was used to responsibility. People were always coming to Zathras; they relied on Zathras. Privately, he thought they were right to do so.

After that night their luck seemed to change. They found a First One the very next day, and then two more soon after. Susan was about to turn the ship around when the machine went off one more time.

"Another one!" shouted Marcus exultantly. He couldn't seem to quit smiling these days; and their continuing good luck gave him an excuse for his exuberance. This was fortunate, since Susan varied from indulgent appreciation of his good humour to complete exasperation with it.

"This is the last one, everyone. Zathras, I want you to turn off that thing! We need to get back to the station. It won't matter having our found allies if we don't make it to the final battle after all." Susan swivelled in her chair, and looked at the Ranger manning the scanner. "Do you have them on screen yet?"

The Minbari passed his hands over the panel of crystals, which glowed blue, then pink, then green. "Not yet, but it's a small ship of some kind, and approaching our position very quickly."

"A ship?" queried Marcus, coming to stand beside the Minbari, examining the readouts on his screens closely. "I wouldn't call anything we've found so far a ship exactly." He politely requested permission to take over the controls, and moved his hands carefully over the lights.

Susan watched him, trying not to think about where those hands had been just last night. And how much she'd enjoyed it. Becoming preoccupied with something besides her work wasn't like her. She was pretty sure she it wasn't a good idea; and she didn't like the feeling of no longer being in control. It made her uneasy. "What is it, Marcus? Can we see it yet?"

Marcus gave a long, low whistle. "It's a First One all right." He looked up at Susan, "I recognize the ship."

Susan wrinkled her brow. "Recognize it? How can you recognize it? Have you consorted with First Ones in the past, and never thought to tell me?"

Marcus gave a slight laugh, "In a way. I last saw this ship at Narn. It's Lorien's ship. Lorien and Lyta are back...back from the Vorlon homeworld."

Susan stared at him, raising one eyebrow in surprise. "I guess that's good news. Wait until they're closer, then hail them..."

"Susan," Marcus broke into her directive, looking up from the control panel in astonishment, "There are three life forms on board that ship."


	5. Rituals

**A Day Late 5: Rituals**

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

_"Since the death instinct exists in the heart of everything that lives, since we suffer from trying to repress it, since everything that lives longs for rest, let us unfasten the ties that bind us to life, let us cultivate our death wish, let us develop it, water it like a plant, let it grow unhindered. Suffering and fear are born from the repression of the death wish."_

-Eugene Ionesco

* * *

Down in Brown sector, there was a small market area, with a few shops catering to Minbari needs. They sold religious supplies, candles and crystals, art and music from home. One small shop carried specialty foodstuffs, both ceremonial and standard. It was run by a worker caste couple; the female was watching the store when the announcement of the attack on Delenn came in as a short private message. She had been watching the televised arrival of more ships joining the fleet on the monitor hanging from the ceiling behind the front counter. Marthier was shocked; she liked Ambassador Delenn. She had even been in the shop once; and afterwards had sent her aide Lennier to pick up specialty items from time to time. Marthier privately thought she was more interesting and even more attractive after her transformation, though she knew her opinion was in the minority among Minbari. The shopkeeper from next door came in agog with the news.

"So what do you think, Marthier? Her clan and caste have declared her mal'cra. What will happen next? What will the Council do? What will the Minbari on the station do? Especially the warriors; they've not liked her commanding the Rangers at all. They're probably behind the attack." he said, almost eagerly.

Marthier glared at him. "She's more Minbari than most warriors, Lethonn! And she has more honor in her fingertips than the so-called Council. That entity is a group composed of, and for, the warrior caste now!" She almost spat out the words.

Just then Marthier's mate, Jenell, came in the door. He closed it behind him, then turned the indicator sign to "closed" which darkened the windows and locked the door. "Lethonn, good, you're here. We need to talk. I've been thinking about this attack, and the mal'cra declaration. I think we need to do something to show our support for the ambassador. She has always been a friend to those of us who make Babylon 5 our home; she's been a good leader. She has always considered our caste in her decisions, not like some of the others."

Lethonn shrugged uneasily, "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure," Jenell hesitated, "I have thought of something, but I need to consider it more carefully. Can you organize the others to meet us here tonight, Lethonn? Workers only. What I have in mind will not involve other caste members, even if they are sympathetic. Say 1900 hours Earth time?"

Lethonn nodded slowly, then said, "I think you may be right. Something should be done. We have never been as ritual-bound as the other castes, and those of us who chose to make our home off-world are even more, what is the phrase? 'Open-minded?' Delenn has been most supportive, while remaining true to her Minbari heritage. She leads us in the Great War prophesied by Valen. I believe we have need of her. I will tell the others. We will come."

Jenell let Lethonn out of the shop, then turned to Marthier. "Do you believe the rumors about Delenn and Sheridan are based in truth?" he asked.

She nodded. "I do. I have only seen them together a few times, but the way they studiously avoided looking at each other was most instructive. Besides, do you remember the time Captain Sheridan came here looking for ingredients for flarn?" She laughed at the memory. "He did not strike me as a particularly experimental cook! I believed at the time there was a special occasion involved. I would not be surprised if Ambassador Delenn caught his eye; she is most attractive, and he has high status among the humans, high enough even for her. They work closely together in the war effort and in station defense. Also, what Minbari male would look at her after her transformation?"

Jenell laughed suggestively, "Well, I would have, if I didn't have you to look at!"

"You have always had perverse tastes, my mate," chuckled Marthier. "Now tell me of your grand idea…"

Marthier considered the group of workers gathered at the shop. There were a dozen or so, most of the worker caste Minbari who lived on Babylon 5 had come. She hoped they would hear Jenell out. She was proud of her mate for his innovative ideas; he had always been a bit of a dreamer. That was one reason they fit in better here than at home. Still this was extremely radical, and out of character, even for him. He must feel strongly about the situation.

Jenell stood in front of the counter, and held his hands up, palms facing outward, to indicate he wished to speak. "You have all heard what has happened to Ambassador Delenn today," he began. "We all know that she has been declared mal'cra as a result of her relationship with the human captain Sheridan. You may not have heard," he paused and looked at Marthier for support. This is where he might lose them, "that rumor also has it that she and Sheridan conceived a child, without finishing the rituals, and without clan approval." The crowd stopped muttering, too stunned to speak. Marthier stared straight ahead; Jenell had already told her of this rumor. She hadn't wanted him to bring it up before it was confirmed, but he maintained it was better to deal with every possibility up front, when asking their caste to make such a fateful decision.

He paused to let the news sink in, then continued, "The warriors I have overheard discussing this, here in this shop, and in the Minbari section of the station, believe any child of this union would be an abomination. There was talk of redeeming the honor of the Minbari people. It would not be the first time they have broken with Valen's first law; that Minbari do not harm Minbari. Because of her transformation, they might make the case that Delenn herself is no longer Minbari, and hence is not entitled to Valen's protection." One woman in the crowd gasped. The rest began to move about restlessly. "So we are gathered to decide where our caste belongs in this struggle; and what we can or should do. There will be a struggle-Minbar will attempt to remove Delenn, maybe all of us. The war is raging outside; now it is come to us. We must pick sides whether we will or not."

At that point, discussion began all over the room. Jenell was content to let them argue it out a while, before he presented his plan. He leaned over to Marthier and said "How do you think they took it?"

Marthier said, "There was more sympathy before you mentioned the possibility of a child, I'm afraid. But the part about the warriors taking the decision onto themselves hit home, I think. We have all experienced things of that sort before."

Jenell hit a small bell hanging in a frame on the counter. "Now we must decide. First, are we in agreement with the mal'cra declaration; that is, if it had been our clan, our caste, would that be the step we would have taken."

An older Minbari stepped forward from the crowd, "I think we are agreed that under most circumstances we might well have declared mal'cra, even though it is an old ritual and rarely used. But circumstances are highly individual. Delenn is already partly human, so the prohibition on the mixing of species does not exactly apply in this case. As for skipping ahead in the joining rituals, well," and he had to hide a smile, "Many of us would be in trouble if that was held as the sole criteria for exile." Most members of the crowd nodded in agreement; a few chuckled at private memories.

"Does anyone wish to speak in favor of mal'cra?" asked Jenell, holding his breath. No one stepped forward. "I believe there is a solution to Delenn's problem, but it will be controversial, and not without risk to us. I however believe there is greater risk in losing her voice in the councils of war, of losing her representation in the League, and of losing her...influence with station command." A few in the crowd smiled, even laughed softly, at that reference.

Jenell continued, taking a deep breath, "I recommend we perform the ritual of Adoption."

The older Minbari who had spoken before laughed and said incredulously, "Jenell, no one could ever accuse you of timidity! You seriously wish us to adopt Delenn as worker caste, into one of our clans?"

"Why not?" he answered. "Mal'cra has been declared by her clan elders. She is cast out of her family, and of her caste. I see nothing in the rituals that would prohibit another clan and caste from adopting her. I for one, would be honored to have her as a clan member."

"We would have to have the approval of a clan elder," someone pointed out from the crowd.

"And she would have to agree to the adoption," called another.

"How would we justify it as the calling of her heart when she is so obviously of the religious caste?" asked another.

Jenell was quietly ecstatic; they were debating details! The overall idea seemed to have been already accepted by the majority of people there.

"I believe Delenn embodies all three castes; she is Three in One," Marthier spoke up. "She has defended this station from a warship like a warrior. She leads by diplomacy and example like a religious. And she builds like a worker."

"What does she build?" queried someone from the back.

"She builds bridges," replied Marthier, certainty ringing in her voice. "She builds bridges between human and Minbari, between other worlds and Minbari, between the castes themselves. She is worker enough for me."

"Are we agreed, then?" said Jenell loudly over the noise. The crowd responded in the affirmative, some with loud declarations, some with hesitant nods, but all affirmative. "Then Lethonn, Marthier, and I will find a way to get permission for the ritual from our clan elders. Then we will ask to speak with Delenn. We must hurry, though. More attacks may come, and they may not all be physical."

The small ship requested permission to dock with the White Star in order for its occupants to enter. After a few minutes stewing over her lack of options, Susan granted them entrance, although she wasn't happy about it. Lyta Alexander had made the contact, and Lorien was there. John trusted Lorien, and she, somewhat to her surprise, trusted Lyta, telepath though she was. They wouldn't say who their companion was; Lyta had laughed uneasily and said that Lorien wanted it to be a 'surprise'.

So Susan met them at the docking station. The White Star had a small tunnel port, meant for freight delivery, and she wasn't sure how Lorien thought he could dock his ship there. But when she arrived, she saw that the White Star had adjusted itself somehow to form a seal for Lorien's ship. She watched as her ship's walls changed in front of her, and realized uneasily how little she knew of the capabilities of the Vorlon-Minbari craft. As the walls melted and re-formed into a standard airlock, she heard the familiar hiss of air, and a wheel in the door formed and began to turn. Marcus had followed her down to the bay, and taken up position slightly in front of her, standing between her and the door.

The door opened slowly, and Susan saw Lyta step cautiously into the ship, her hands open and in view. 'Wise woman' she thought, and watched as the red-head moved into the bay. The tall alien Lorien followed, nodding affably to Susan. He turned and extended his hand into the connecting tunnel, as if in welcome, and then Susan saw what she had suspected and somewhat feared; the familiar brown and green encounter suit of a Vorlon.

The Vorlon glided into position beside Lorien, it's iris opening and closing rapidly as if it were taking careful stock of its new environment, or perhaps, Susan thought, indicating apprehension. She remarked under her breath, "Aren't you a little short for a Vorlon?" Then, shaking her head, she smiled briefly at Lyta, "How've you been? You hitching a ride, or just checking in?"

Lyta smiled back. "We're heading the same way you are, if you don't mind some company...?"

"Of course," said Susan, "The more the merrier." She gestured to Marcus, "Set up a room for our guests, won't you?" She turned to Lorien, "And won't you introduce us to your friend?" Crossing her arms in front of her, she looked at the Vorlon with deep suspicion etching her features.

Lorien gestured at the Vorlon, and said, "This is Velana Naranek. She was interested in meeting all of you, so we brought her along." He smiled gently.

"Naranek?" said Susan. "I've heard that name before." She turned to the Vorlon. "Did you know him? Did you know Ambassador Kosh?"

Captain Sheridan was sitting in his private office outside of C&C, staring blankly at the drift of papers covering his desk, when there was a knock at his door. "Come," he called absently, wondering what new crisis had arisen.

Zack Allan entered and said "There's something that needs your attention, Captain." At Sheridan's immediate stiffening, he went on quickly, "Ambassador Delenn's fine, as far as I know. We're still looking for the four Minbari who attacked her. We've actually had some leads come in from the Minbari on-station. Not all of them agree with this mal'cra thing, whatever it is."

"What's the problem?" asked John, relaxing only slightly.

"Security outside the command center called me. You have visitors, Minbari visitors. I wanted to check them out personally before letting them through."

John's eyes narrowed. Zack said quickly, "I think these Minbari are on the side of the angels, Captain. Maybe you'd better hear them out. They've been on the station a while, no record of trouble or political involvement. Lennier says they're shopkeepers, ordinary folks. They say they may be able to help the Ambassador; how I don't know."

John hesitated, and his link sounded. "Excuse me a minute, Zack," he said. "Sheridan, go."

"It's me," answered the disembodied voice of Stephen Franklin. "Do you have a minute? I'm on my way there; thought you'd want an update on Delenn's condition."

"I'll be here. Zack's with me, we've got some Minbari here with a proposal of some kind." His voice was slightly tight. "Is there any change?"

"Only for the good. Don't worry. I'll be there in under five minutes. Franklin out."

Zack tactfully looked away as Sheridan passed his hand over his eyes for a moment. He really didn't want to know if the Captain was tearing up. Not his business, and he wouldn't blame him in any case.

He cleared his throat, and said, "What about the Minbari waiting outside?"

"They can wait. Their business...it's nothing to do with Delenn's attackers, is it?" asked Sheridan, his eyes going to the closed door behind Zack.

"They say no. And like I said, Lennier says they're okay, and they check out." Zack relaxed his stance slightly, and went to answer the door when it chimed. "Hi, Doc. Come on in." Turning towards Sheridan, he said, "You want me to wait outside?"

"No, that's all right. This'll only take a minute," replied Sheridan. "How is she, Stephen?"

"She's fine. The disorientation's passed, there was some hemorrhaging, and she's still weak from blood loss. There wasn't any permanent damage though, and she's feeling better enough to ask Lennier to bring her some work to do." He held up one hand at Sheridan's protest. "Lennier told her it's all under control. He says there's not much going on. The Minbari on the station are still in shock over this; he spends most of his time answering questions, most of which don't have answers in any case." He looked shrewdly at the Captain, "I think her main problem is dealing with the psychological effects of being attacked by her own people. 'Minbari do not kill Minbari', isn't that the way it goes?"

Sheridan nodded. "It's not like she hasn't felt rejected by them before, but this is different." He turned to Zack, "How is Garibaldi coming with his investigation?"

"He and Lennier are interviewing Rangers and other Minbari as fast as they can. I'm providing them with surveillance information on some of the more outspoken opposition, but it's the others they're worried about, the ones who might not say much before they act." He added encouragingly, "The Chief says the Rangers seem pretty solid, but the Minbari on the cruisers are more of a mixed bag. It's mostly religious and worker caste on the big ships and they're torn; more confused than disloyal. It's like they're looking for a reason to stick with her."

Stephen nodded, "In a hierarchical society like the Minbari, they'll look to their leaders for direction. I hope Garibaldi is focusing on the captains of the ships and the commanders among the Rangers."

"I'm sure he is," said Sheridan. "I'd better see these people, Zack. Thanks for stopping by, Stephen. Tell Delenn I'll be down as soon as I can. Keep her in MedLab; that's an order."

Stephen laughed, "I'll do my best. Later today she can have visitors beyond you and Lennier. Maybe that'll help. You coming, Zack?"

"I'd like Zack to hear what these people have to say, Stephen. In case they do know anything," replied Sheridan. "You can show 'em in," he directed Zack.

Zack walked Stephen to the door, and gestured down the hallway to the guard, indicating he should let the Minbari come through. He held the door open for the trio, and closed the door behind them, taking up a watchful position between them and the Captain.

Jenell, Marthier, and Lethonn entered and bowed towards the Captain. "Captain, we think we have a solution to Ambassador Delenn's problems with her clan, but we need to communicate immediately and privately with Minbar, then with Delenn."

"What is this solution, and to which problem do you refer? The mal'cra declaration or your people's attack on her?" Sheridan leaned forward aggressively, "What makes you think I'd trust any Minbari near her right now?"

Jenell looked directly into Sheridan's eyes, "We only ask that you allow this communication, Captain. We disagree with the mal'cra edict, and believe we have a way to, er, circumvent its intent."

Marthier chimed in, "Please believe us, we mean Delenn no harm. She has only been kind and helpful to us. We trust her, and do not want another representative here on the station. We are worker caste; not one of those who attacked her." Lethonn merely nodded, taken aback at Sheridan's ferocity.

"Oh, all right," Sheridan finally said, "I'll have someone patch you through on the command channel. Is there anything else?"

"We will need to speak with our clan elder, then he will need to speak to others, and return with the answers we are requesting. After that, if all goes well, we will need to speak with the Ambassador. Is that possible? Does her health allow visitors?" said Jenell.

"Dr. Franklin said maybe later today. You can stay here in the office while you await your answers. I will let Mr. Allan here know if and when you can come to MedLab." replied Sheridan as he prepared to leave. Once outside the door, he gestured Zack closer, and said quietly, "Record the conversations and get me the transcripts asap. I want to know what they're up to before we let them near Delenn. Station a guard outside the door, and call me when you have news." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll be glad when Susan gets back. She and Marcus are on their way; apparently Lorien is with them."

"Yes, Sir, " replied Zack. He hesitated, then asked diffidently, "Is Lyta Alexander still with Lorien, Captain?"

Sheridan nodded, "She's with him. There'll be a debriefing as soon as they arrive. I'll let you know when it's set."

Zack nodded, feeling happier than he had in days knowing Lyta was all right, and coming back. "One more thing. Captain, when you see the Ambassador, could you tell her I hope she's feeling better soon?"

"I will, Zack." With that John Sheridan walked away, looking as if a great weight had fallen back upon him, as indeed it had.

The three Minbari remained behind while Zack arranged for a direct clear channel to Minbar. It took several minutes to re-direct the link to the offices in Tuzanoor where Satai Morthenn had been located. Jenell cleared his throat in apprehension as the com unit finally chimed as the last connection was made. Morthenn, eldest of his clan, member of what remained of the Grey Council, was waiting for him to speak. He explained the situation as best he could, and the solution he was proposing. Morthenn sat silent for a moment, then laughed. Jenell was confused, was this a good or bad sign? Morthenn stopped laughing, then sighed, and said "Well, this is a delicate situation you bring us, Jenell. Adopt Delenn of Mir? The agent of prophecy, the chosen of Dukhat? She who broke the Grey Council, and leads us to fight our ancient enemy? Have you spoken with her yet? Does she even desire this change in status?"

"We wanted to know the clan's thoughts before approaching her, Morthenn. Besides she has been injured as you know; we do not even know when we can speak with her. But it is the only way for her to retain her position and maintain her authority.." replied Jenell.

"It is an innovative and elegant solution to many problems, Jenell, and I thank you for bringing it to my attention. There are five worker clans; I will need the approval of three elders to allow the ceremony to proceed. And Delenn must agree of her own free will. It must be the calling of her heart, or it will not happen. Have you considered what to do about Sheridan?" he then asked.

Jenell looked confused, "What about him? What has he to do with this?"

Morthenn looked at the three workers, deadly serious, and said "He is to be her mate, is he not? And he is Starkiller also? Are we to accept him into our clan as well?"

The three were taken aback; this had not occurred to any of them, but it was a natural progression. "What do you suggest, Morthenn?" asked Jenell.

"I suggest we wait, and see what happens," Morthenn looked down and away from the three members of his caste making this audacious proposal. They were on the front lines in a war that should have been spear-headed by his people. "I will obtain the answers you seek. Wait in peace, and remain hopeful. All may yet be very well."

Later that afternoon, Jenell and Marthier arrived at the MedLab door and paused, nervous about entering. The security guards outside the entrance asked to see their identicards, then one of them went inside to fetch Sheridan and Dr. Franklin. They emerged, Sheridan looking warily at them. Dr. Franklin introduced himself, and said, "The Ambassador is feeling better today. We've told her you want to speak with her, and she has agreed. I will be monitoring her, and if your presence upsets her, or affects her negatively in any way, I will have to ask you to leave."

Sheridan added, "I will be there, Stephen. I'll see they don't upset her. Come this way."

Delenn was sitting up, although it was obvious she was in some pain. She bowed her head to the two Minbari and said "How may I be of service to you?"

Now that the moment was here, Jenell didn't know how to start. He looked helplessly at Marthier, who wrinkled her nose at him, and said "Males never seem to know how to speak of personal matters."

Delenn smiled, and said, "Could you please honor me by telling me your names and clans, and then your business with my partner and myself?" She smiled up at Sheridan and took his hand.

After introductions, and wishes for a speedy recovery, and regret for her injuries, and other Minbari small talk; Marthier began, "Honored Ambassador, we have heard of your troubles with your clan. We wish you to know that the worker caste Minbari on the station do not agree with your clan's edict. We find it an overreaction, and irresponsible given your role in the ongoing conflict. We have spoken with Morthenn, the eldest and most respected member of our family, and he has given us permission to offer you the shelter of our clan, the clan of Builders."

"I remember Morthenn, a good man." commented Delenn "What is it that you suggest?"

Jenell swallowed hard. Suddenly this did not seem like such a good idea; it seemed presumptuous and hugely unwise. "We offer the ritual of Adoption, Su'Zha. It would be our honor to welcome you into our family, clan, and caste." He cast his eyes downward, quaking a bit, awaiting her reaction.

Delenn's hand gripped Sheridan's tightly, and he looked quickly at her, "Are you all right, Delenn? Have they upset you?" and his eyes settled on the Minbari with a speculative glint. He looked as if he was considering their form of execution.

"No, no, John, don't look at them so fiercely. You're scaring them!" Delenn laughed a little at her protector. "This is a…most interesting proposition, Jenell. Are you certain it would be well received by other members of your clan?" She was not sure how she felt about the proposal; it was certainly novel, but she would have to consider the ramifications carefully. She had worked with Morthenn and two others on the Grey Council, and certainly there were worker caste Minbari on the station, serving on the ships, and in the Rangers; but she was largely unfamiliar with their rituals and traditions.

Marthier looked at her and said simply and sincerely, "We have consulted all the worker caste Minbari on the station. We are all in agreement. Our clan elder has agreed. Three of the other four worker caste clan elders have agreed; the fourth is off-world and could not be reached for comment. We have meditated on the religious caste's declaration of mal'cra, and have decided we would have not imposed it in these circumstances, so we set it aside. We are sure, and the honor would be ours. However, it is ultimately up to you and the calling of your heart, Su'zha."

Delenn looked as if she was unable to speak, so Sheridan stepped in, "What would this involve? What exactly would happen?"

Marthier smiled, "Rituals, Captain, as I'm sure you've guessed. There is a ritual used to accommodate an adult who feels the calling of their heart has changed to that of another caste. If Delenn changes castes, mal'cra would be void, and she would regain at least some of her status in Minbari society. Morthenn feels she would have enough support to remain ambassador to Babylon 5. It is not a particularly sought after position."

John looked a little insulted, but Delenn smiled briefly in acknowledgement. She knew how important the station was in the great struggle in which they were engaged, but she also knew hers was a minority opinion on Minbar.

"I would like to think on this. It is an important decision, and should not be made lightly," said Delenn. "Also there are others I would need to consult." She was thinking rapidly of the possible ramifications, both positive and negative.

Jennell looked downcast, and Lethonn nervous, but Marthier remained serene. "We will wait," said Marthier. "I do, however, think that it would be wise not to wait too long."

Delenn nodded, "You are correct. Time is passing, and there is much riding on our alliance. I do not want to be the cause of it faltering, here at the last, and crucial, moments."

John looked down at her, and squeezed her hand. "You figure out what's best, just don't forget to consider what's best for yourself as well." She looked up at him, and for a moment it seemed like they were alone in the room, regardless of its other occupants.

Janell and Marthier looked at each other and smiled in recognition of the feeling. "We'd better get the materials for the ritual together" "Yes, I'd think so." They spoke at the same time, as long time couples sometimes do, then left the room with Lethonn. They each bowed to Dr. Franklin on the way out of MedLab, and Jenell asked him to call them when a decision had been reached.

Lennier approached MedLab with some trepidation. He had collected together the items which needed Delenn's immediate attention or signature, as she had requested. He had fielded many questions, expressions of sympathy, and some repellent comments. It was curious; he could not always predict who would have which reaction to Delenn's plight. A representative of Centauri Prime had sent flowers in Londo's name, although he wondered whether it was Vir's idea. G'Kar had sent a book of Narn poetry, and an offer to personally eviscerate those who had attacked her. He had spent some little time wondering what would happen to him. He had bound himself to Delenn, come what may, but he had never anticipated this turn of events.

He heard Delenn before he saw her. She was talking with someone, a Minbari female. He hesitated; she looked familiar. Finally he placed her—she was one of the owners of a food shop Delenn was fond of, and to which she sent him fairly often to pick up delicacies from home.

Delenn saw Lennier and gestured him into the room. "There you are, Lennier! I need to speak with you. If you would excuse us, Marthier?"

The female said farewell to Delenn, and bowed to Lennier on her way out. They had seemed to be discussing some ceremony. Lennier shook his head. It was none of his affair. Delenn seemed to be feeling much better, and quickly went through the papers he had brought for her to examine. She signed what she could, and kept several back to look at more closely. Then she asked him to take a seat, and began speaking.

"Now, Lennier. I have something I wish to tell you. I want you to understand what I have decided to do. And then, after you have reflected on this, you may ask to be released from my service, if that is your wish. I will not hold it against you; this outcome is not what you anticipated when you swore yourself to me…"

Lennier interrupted her. Even though he had already been considering what he should do, it still upset him that Delenn would think he would want to undo the bond between them. "Delenn, I bound myself regardless of outcome. I would be foresworn.."

She said, "No one, including me, would blame you. And I make the offer freely, as you are free to take it. Now listen carefully, Lennier. This evening the worker caste clan of Builders will perform a ritual of adoption for me. I will become of another caste. I do not think there has ever been a religious monk of your order bound to a worker, however high their status. Consider this carefully, consider the possible effect on your future, because I am uncertain how it will affect mine."

Lennier sat stunned. Changing caste after the initial choice when entering adulthood was very seldom done. That the worker caste was willing to ignore the declaration of mal'cra put out by Delenn's clan was astonishing. That had never been done, to his knowledge. Still, it was not forbidden by any tradition he knew of…and it was a way for Delenn to remain Minbari, enough of one to continue her role as ambassador, perhaps even to lead the Rangers. But was it enough for him to continue his service?

Delenn had been holding her breath, watching Lennier's face, trying to judge his reactions. He was really very good at hiding his thoughts, she mused.

Lennier stirred, and said "This is most unexpected, but I think it may prove very interesting. Perhaps I could witness the ceremony?"

Delenn smiled back; his curiosity was one of his most engaging attributes. "I believe we are starting at 0500 Earth time. Here in MedLab, as Stephen will still not let me leave. John will be free at that time and he has also asked permission to witness the ceremony." Her eyes shone with happiness, and Lennier could not help but smile back.

"I cannot say more without time for reflection, Delenn, but never think I do not wish you well." Lennier rose from his seat, bowed as a gesture of respect, still acknowledging her position as his mentor and superior, and left the room, his head whirling at the confusion of thoughts and emotions her announcement had engendered in him.

That evening Jenell and Marthier returned, to MedLab with Lethonn, who carried a tray with several objects draped in silk cloths. They were wearing ceremonial worker robes, tan robes with blue overtunics worked in gold thread. Jenell and Marthier stood on either side of Delenn's bed. Stephen had insisted she remain sitting down, with monitors attached, or he said he would put a stop to the whole thing. Sheridan had agreed, Delenn had protested, but she finally admitted it was better she go through the ceremony sitting, rather than stand and risk falling down in the middle of it. Lennier and Sheridan sat on chairs placed along the wall of the room. They were there both to observe and to witness.

Lethonn uncovered a bell suspended in an iron frame, and hit it gently.

Marthier spoke "Worker rituals are simple ones, Delenn. We ask that you speak to us of your desire to join us in the clan of Builders; we who work in metal, wood, and cloth. Tell us what you wish. Then we will speak the words of change and acceptance."

Delenn cleared her throat; this was unlike any ritual she had ever attempted. She had to build the ritual with her own words, rather than repeating others' as in religious rituals. She began, "I build with words, my clan-to-be. My dearest desire is to forge alliances, to carve treaties, to stitch together old friends and former enemies into a force for good-a force to fight, a force to protect. I seek to weave together the forces of light, into a light that will endure beyond the coming darkness, a light that will be a shining beacon in the night. For now and for a thousand years. And since that which is built, endures, I find myself called to build."

Lethonn removed the second cloth to reveal a necklace made of twisted metal.

Jenell spoke, "This metal I have forged to welcome you to our clan. The silver stands for the purity of your ideals and the steel in your voice; the gold for the warmth of your heart and the fire in your eyes." He took up the necklace and fastened it around Delenn's neck.

Lethon uncovered the next object and picked it up himself. He spoke, "This stylus I have carved to welcome you to our clan. It is made from a mature Earth tree called teak. It is a hard wood, but soft with natural oils; as you are hard with our enemies, but gentle with the people you serve. The wood gets stronger as the tree grows in its natural environment, as you have grown stronger here on Babylon 5." He bowed and handed the stylus to Delenn.

Lethonn then picked up the last cloth, which lay over a large flat area of the tray.

Marthier picked up a hood, white silk, banded with blue velvet, and embroidered all over with gold stitching. She spoke, "This cloth I have sewn to welcome you to our clan. The white is for the religious caste; the blue and gold are the colors of the worker caste. The colors embellish and cover, but do not obscure the white, as your past will always be a part of you." She draped the hood over Delenn's head. Lethonn hit the bell again, then Marthier went to stand behind Delenn, and the two male Minbari took up positions on either side of the bed. The three stretched out their arms and joined hands, forming a triangle with Delenn in the center, seated on the bed.

They spoke together, "We accept the change in our sister Delenn. The calling of her heart is to the worker caste and with permission and knowledge of Morthenn, clan elder, we accept her into our clan."

"There, it is done," said Jenell with satisfaction. "We will send the message to Morthenn, and he can notify the other elders. I wish I could be there to see the religious and warrior caste elders' reactions."

Delenn winced, "I sincerely hope their reaction is as accepting as you anticipate, Jenell. It may well be that we have made things worse. I am trusting Morthenn's take on this. I do not wish to bring any trouble to you."

"Do not worry, clan-sister," laughed Marthier, "Trouble comes naturally to my Jenell, he does not need to search it out." She spoke to Sheridan and Delenn, who were now sitting together on the bed as they examined the ritual gifts. "Normally now we would have the ritual feasting and festivities, but it will wait until you are both well and have the time to enjoy it."

Lennier had remained seated, his expression unreadable. He stood and bowed, first to Delenn and Sheridan, then to the three Minbari. "I will be leaving now; I have work that needs completion. Thank you for letting me attend, it was a fascinating ritual."

"Welcome again, Delenn ra'Ell," said Lethonn. "I also have things to attend to, and will have to leave you now." The two Minbari left MedLab together, then went their separate ways, Lennier's security guard still trailing behind him.

Marthier and Jennell were about to make their ritual farewells when Sheridan's link sounded. He excused himself to take the message, then came back with an mixed expression of relief and determination. "It's Susan. She's back with the others. I need to talk with them right away. I'll stop by afterwards, and fill you in on what they found." This last he addressed to Delenn. He inclined his head towards the Minbari, and left the room hurriedly.

Marthier asked Jennell to excuse them for a moment. After her mate had left the room, unable to overhear although still visible through the glass window to one side of door of Delenn's room, she spoke, her tone carefully noncommittal. "Now that you are of our clan, there is one more thing I have been tasked by Morthenn to ask you."

Giving no sign of consternation, Delenn answered, "To the best of my ability I will answer."

Marthier hesitated, then sighed. "There's really no discreet way to ask this. Have you begun the joining rituals? Is it your intent, and the Captain's, to continue? And lastly," here she looked down as if embarrassed, "Is there any need for haste in completing them?" She quickly added, "It's just that the Worker caste rituals are rather less elaborate. I can help you with them if there is need."

Delenn looked amused for a moment, but there was an underlying tinge of sadness to her expression. "We have begun, and plan to continue. But at this moment there are other priorities. And there is no need for haste, not any longer."

Marthier fixed Delenn with a keen glance that seemed to look behind her words and see all that had happened, but she did not ask any more questions. "I understand. I will be glad to help, at any time. Do not hesitate to ask, clan-sister."

Delenn looked troubled for a moment, but only said smoothly, "I thank you for your offer."

Sheridan told Susan he would meet them in the conference room nearest the docking bay. Susan, Marcus, Lorien, and Lyta were waiting when he got there, and Zack Allan was just arriving. He greeted them, and listened to their progress, noting that Susan was looking distinctly uncomfortable. Finally he asked directly, "It sounds like a success all around. So what aren't you telling me?"

Susan looked at Lorien, then back at John. "Lorien brought a friend."

"Another First One? What's the problem? Wasn't that why you were out there?" He looked from one to the other.

Susan sighed, "He brought back a Vorlon from their homeworld. She's...a relative of Kosh."

John looked startled, then alarmed. Turning to Lorien, he said, "Why? The Vorlons have made their position clear. They're attacking whole planets...slaughtering thousands. Have they changed their minds? Sent an envoy to talk peace?" He paused, then said, "A relative?"

Lyta chimed in, "She's a family member, sort of a sister...maybe a daughter would be closer. Not a wife...that is, not exactly." She shook her head, "It's hard to explain. Maybe just sum it up as she's part of the same lineage as Kosh. She feels like Kosh. To me."

"She." John stared at her. "Vorlons have male and female genders?"

"Sort of," answered Lyta. "It's difficult..."

"To explain. Yes, so you said." John looked back at Lorien. "I don't know if this is a good idea. Why did you bring this person here? What could she possibly have to say, after all the Vorlons have done?"

Lorien stared back at him, his yellow eyes clouded with mystery and unspoken meaning. "Why don't you ask it, Captain?" His gaze pinned Sheridan. "She came to meet you, I believe. I myself have another task. From the Commander's account, you have still not contacted one or two of the Elder Races. I know where they are to be found. I need to find them. She can take me, while you finish up here."

Susan looked as if she was ready to explode when John nodded. "All right then. I'll meet with this Vorlon, and you go gather up the rest."

"Captain, this is ridiculous. There aren't any more to be found! Not anywhere close! And I have things to do here." Susan was barely holding down her temper. It had been her idea to go on the search, and it had been more successful that she had dreamed, but she was back now. She wasn't about to be sent out again, and risk missing the final assault...whatever it was going to be.

Lorien looked at Susan, his eyes almost twinkling in amusement. "You have found most of them, Commander, and you have done very well. Very well indeed. But we need them all."

"I don't believe this! Why on Earth do we need them all? I just got back! The fleet is almost ready, the station has to be prepared for the war coming here, we're understaffed already, and you want to take a joyride. Why didn't you tell me on the way back? We could have stopped on the way!" Susan was fuming; it was almost as though the universe was conspiring to keep her away from the action.

Lorien only smiled and looked at Sheridan, who sighed uncomfortably. "There's not much time, Lorien. How many are left? And how far away are they? We might have to change our plans. I do need Susan here. Stephen's swamped with refugees in MedLab and down on Epsilon Three, and Garibaldi's still suspect. With Delenn hurt, we really are short-handed."

"I am certain you and your staff can handle it. The Ranger can stay; and it will only take a day, maybe two. It is important, Captain. You know that." Lorien's smile never wavered.

Susan found the smile, and the confidence, extremely unnerving. "Then let's get it over with. My ship or yours?" She looked at Lorien coolly.

"Yours is faster. Besides, mine has an occupant. While Velana remains on board my ship, she is invisible to others of her kind...or other races who might be interested in her whereabouts." Looking at Sheridan, he said, "My ship will permit your entry, and yours alone. Go to her." He gestured towards the door. "Shall we go?"

Susan looked at John, trying to decide whether a last minute plea would work, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Oh, all right. Come on. But you get one day. That's it." She stalked out the door without a backwards glance.

Marcus looked after her, a bit wistfully, and said, "Oh well. So much for a quiet evening at home." He looked to Sheridan, and asked, "How's Delenn?"

"Recovering. Stephen thinks she'll be fine. Marcus, Garibaldi could use some help questioning the Rangers as to their loyalties. He's in conference room B, just outside the docking area. Lennier is handling the Minbari on station..."

Marcus gave him a hard look. "There is no question of loyalty, Captain. We live for the One."

"Delenn herself isn't sure of the effect of the mal'cra declaration on the Rangers. We have to ask, and to give anyone who's having doubts the opportunity to say so, and remove themselves. It's a war, and we want those fighting it to be to be fighting it whole-hearted.. Michael's hoping to finish up the interviews today. Go help him out, then we'll see." Sheridan said. "He's reporting to me later. I'd like your impressions as well."

Marcus nodded, and asked, "What about the ones who attacked her?" His voice was cold and dry as Martian dust.

Sheridan looked at Zack, who replied, "We're working on it. Lennier identified the four of them, but they've gone into hiding. There's not too much support out there; someone will turn them in eventually. They can't get off the station." Before Marcus could ask, he added, "I have 24 hour security around MedLab. She's safe enough in there." Zack looked over at Lyta, and asked, "How are you doing? Quite a trip to make. But then, you'd been there before, hadn't you?"

Lyta laughed, "It's never the same place twice, actually. And it's never what you would call a pleasure trip." She looked at Sheridan, and said, "If you don't mind, Captain, I'd like to go to my quarters now, and get some sleep. Unless you want me to come along when you meet with the Vorlon."

"No," said Sheridan. "Lorien said the ship would only allow me entry in any case. I'll take Zack along for back-up."

Zack looked disappointed, and Lyta was obviously trying not to smile at his forlorn expression. "Maybe you could stop by my quarters later?" she asked.

"Sure," Zack started to say, then glancing at the Captain, continued, "When my shift is over, of course."

"Of course," said Lyta, then more seriously. "Captain, Velana will recognize what you carry. Be careful; remember, Vorlons desire to be complete when they pass beyond." She left the room, with Zack staring after her, and Sheridan looking grim.

Marcus left , and John was left alone with Zack. He sighed, and set off for the nearby docking bay which held Lorien's ship. His last trip on it had been hopeful in a way. He'd been returning home, returning to Delenn, or so he had thought. So much had happened between then and now.

Reaching the bay, he stared a few moments at the ship held so far above him. Indicating to Zack to stay in the bay until he returned, he entered the elevator, and pushed the buttons which would take the transport up to the ship's door. Once the seal had been formed, he placed his hand against the door lock, watching as the skin of the ship formed around his, almost as if the ship was clasping his hand. The lock withdrew, and the door irised opened, and he entered.

The ship was dimly lit, and he walked the short corridor to the bridge, wondering why the Vorlon wasn't there to greet him. The alarm would have sounded as soon as the elevator made contact. Entering the small round room that served as the nerve center of Lorien's ship, he looked around and saw no-one.

"Who are you?"

The voice was metallic and toneless, sent over a translator, the kind commonly found embedded in an encounter suit. Turning, he saw the typical suit favored by the Vorlons, smaller, perhaps a bit more blue than green in the swirling colors. "I am John Sheridan. Commander of this station." He added, with ironic emphasis, "But you knew that, didn't you?"

"Yes." The voice sounded both inside and outside his head. "He is with you?" The question had almost a plaintive note.

"Kosh is with me. A small part of him." John stood in front of the Vorlon and tried to intuit its intentions. "He saved me at Z'ha'dum, even though he said he wouldn't be able to. I would never have met Lorien without his warning, his advice at the very last moment."

"Yes."

This time he was certain. The voice was sad. It was definitely sad. "Why are you here?" Then, "What are you called?"

"Velana. I came..." The Vorlon shifted and its suit changed colors rapidly, settling back to a dull blue and brown. "We needed to know."

"About Kosh?"

"About you."

That stopped him for a moment. He considered his next words carefully. "Kosh was teaching me to fight. To fight legends, he said."

"You are fighting our enemies." Velana's voice was strong, then it faded as she added, "You are fighting us."

"I didn't want to. You made a choice. One I cannot support. People are dying, in this war. It's not their fight." He tried to keep his voice steady, but passion colored it and he knew he was close to shouting. In his experience, that was normal in conversation with a Vorlon.

Velana remained silent for several minutes, then said, "Not all chose this path."

John was shocked. He was used to thinking of the Vorlons as almost a group mind. Then he considered Kosh, and realized he'd already known one rebel Vorlon. "You didn't agree."

Her iris flared open and shut several times. "No."

John felt a terrible pang of regret. "There's nothing I can do. I have to stop your people, those of you who are fighting. I don't know what will happen to you personally, or to the piece of Kosh I carry."

"The flood carries all before it; none can stand aside when the page is turned." Velana turned away. "Go now."

John bowed his head in acknowledgment of her request, and left the ship, still wondering exactly why she had come. Tomorrow he would talk with Garibaldi, and Marcus, about the Rangers. Lennier had already sent his report to Zack. There was the Minbari problem, and there was the Vorlon problem, and the Shadow problem, not to mention the looming problem of Earth. One thing at a time, he told himself. When the elevator reached the floor, he told Zack to take off, and get a replacement to finish his shift. He had to smile at Zack's sheepish grin; it was good to see someone simply happy for once.

The next morning started well enough. The station was running smoothly; at least there were no fires to be put out. He talked over the com with Susan, who reported they had only one more First One to 'corral' as she put it. Marcus had reported in, the interviews with the Rangers were finished, and he and Garibaldi would meet him in the afternoon and go over the results. It looked good. He managed to take some time to visit Delenn in MedLab in the late morning, then had a lunch meeting with some members of the League. Zack was supposed to meet with him after that, but he'd had someone he had to meet, someone with information. He's spent the time before the meeting with Marcus and Garibaldi catching up on paperwork. For once, the driving sense of urgency that informed his actions abated a bit. When the door chimed, he said 'Come' with almost a relaxed air.

"Captain," Garibaldi said as he entered the room, Marcus close behind him. He started to launch into his report, when Sheridan got up, and headed for the door.

"Come on, you two. Let's take this meeting to MedLab. I think Delenn needs to hear what you have to say."

Zack Allan raced towards MedLab. The Minbari informant, a petite religious caste female who spoke barely above a whisper, had been definite. There was to be another attempt, a direct assault by a Warrior with no care as to personal repercussions. It was a suicide run, and he didn't like the odds that the guards he'd stationed in the corridors leading to MedLab, or the ones at the entry, would be able to stop the Minbari from reaching his target. He spoke rapidly into his link, lining up back-up forces, trying to obtain information as to the location of the warrior, as he ran. At the same time, he'd smoothly unsnapped his holster, and taken out his PPG. The weapon was cold in his hand, but rapidly warmed as he powered it up to full. Taking the corner at a run, he slowed as he entered the corridor. There was no one in sight, and his heart sank as he realized that included his Security team. They had either been lured away from their posts, or were lying somewhere out of sight, wounded, possibly dead.

He spoke quietly into his link, trying to raise someone in MedLab. The doors were wide open, as they always were, welcoming those in pain or distress to enter freely and quickly. He could just see medical personnel inside, technicians and doctors, walking about, performing their duties, unaware of the storm that was about to descend upon them. Then he saw the Captain approaching, still a distance down the corridor, with the Chief and Marcus walking along with him. The guard Captain Sheridan had assigned to watch the Chief was there, but the man wasn't paying enough attention to his surroundings. He didn't seem to notice that the other guards were missing, and he wasn't answering the 'alert' on his comlink. Zack made a mental note to have a talk with him afterwards.

Time seemed to slow and stretch as he moved swiftly towards the group, and the entrance to MedLab. He could hear the heavy tread of footsteps behind him, his back-up, still too far away to be useful. Then from out of a side door, leading to an access corridor, burst a fully armored Minbari warrior. He charged towards MedLab, then all hell broke loose. Momentarily he wondered how the warrior had known of that entrance anyway, as he shouted a warning and raised his pistol, trying to take aim at the swift moving target.

Garibaldi was trying not to notice Marcus' occasional black looks, focused instead on making his report to Sheridan. He hadn't found much support among the Rangers for the declaration of mal'cra, or for Delenn resigning as Entil'zha; as often as not, he had to reassure them over and over that it wasn't the idea of station staff, and they certainly weren't pushing for it. Both the human and the Minbari members of the Anla'Shok were spoiling for a fight, but their icy control was more frightening, and impressive, than any amount of bluster would have been.

Sheridan was listening intently to him, his manner remaining strictly professional. There weren't any signs of distrust, but it wasn't exactly a friendly meeting. If he had to peg his superior's demeanour, it would be wary and watchful, with perhaps an underlying note of relief. He knew the Captain was on edge for a multitude of reasons, and this would be one less worry on his plate. Garibaldi hoped presenting the results to Delenn would reassure her as well. He hadn't even seen her, except from a distance, since she'd gotten back.

He found himself chattering on, "Lennier had some Minbari business to deal with, but he agrees with me. Aside from a few malcontents, and we've sent a list of names on to Zack, the majority of Minbari on the station are willing to take a wait and see attitude. The adoption ritual helped a lot; it gave them an excuse to do what they wanted to do in any case. The Rangers had even fewer dissenting voices. Those with a problem have been reassigned to border patrol and other duties away from the main fleet."

Michael spoke easily, but he could feel the hair raising on the back of his neck, even as he kept his voice level. Something was wrong. Looking around casually, he suddenly realized that it wasn't something there, it was something missing. There were no Security guards visible, even at the entrance to MedLab, which he could see midway down the corridor.

He managed to catch Marcus' eye, and indicated the doorway with a slight inclination of his head. Marcus' eyes widened, and he removed his denn'bok from inside his jacket. Michael wished fervently that he was also armed, but that was just his bad luck. He started to alert Sheridan, when he caught sight of Zack moving swiftly towards MedLab. He and Marcus both started to run, and they were closer to the door than Zack. Marcus was faster, and he sped inside, heading for Delenn's room, obviously planning to make his stand there. It only took Michael a second to shake off his guard's attempt to catch his arm, and he could hear Sheridan shout as both came racing down the hall after him. A Minbari warrior burst out of a side door and he just managed to catch hold of his cloak as the possible assassin tried to force his way into MedLab.

Zack shouted, "Stop him! He's gonna kill her!"

Michael heard Sheridan's roar and he gripped the Minbari around the waist, trying to keep him from entering the medical facility. He could feel the thudding blows as Sheridan attacked the warrior from behind, and then the crash as the Minbari threw off the Captain. Michael stumbled, but didn't let go. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sheridan slam back into the wall, momentarily stunned.

He took a firmer grip, and shouted to Zack, "Go ahead and shoot! I can't hold him for long!"

Zack looked sick, and Michael realized he was afraid he would hit his former boss. "Go ahead!" he called and with one last effort he swung the warrior around so that his body was between him and Zack. The blast from the PPG took the Minbari in the mid-section, and Michael could feel the blasts hit, and to one side, burn through the leather armor and into his own coat, but he didn't let go until he felt the warrior slump in his arms. Letting him fall to the floor, he looked down at the scorch marks on his left arm. "That was close," he said.

"Thanks, Michael," Sheridan's voice was quiet, but Garibaldi could hear the emotion behind it, and felt something loosen in his chest, a tightness reflecting a residual distrust that he hadn't even known was there. He'd spent some time in his cell worrying about the new Sheridan, the 'man who came back'. The stories had spread through the station, and reached even into the holding cells. "He's the only one, the only one who's returned." "They say he died and was brought back to save us all." "He's our only hope." The guards and other prisoners, visitors to the cells, all were talking about Sheridan like he was a god or something. It would be hard for any man to resist that kind of hype, and the power it would give him. But what he'd seen today wasn't a god or a messiah or someone setting themselves up as either. It was just a man; tired, worried, hiding it well, and holding it together, but just barely. Sheridan was still one of the good guys, Garibaldi thought with a mix of relief and cynical amusement. And apparently so am I.

After they'd spoken with Delenn, who hadn't heard a thing from the confines of her room, Sheridan stopped outside the facility. He called Zack over, and said, gesturing towards Garibaldi, "Take him to his quarters. House arrest is enough for now. Tomorrow I'll decide whether we even need that any more. I need to talk with Susan first. And Lorien." Turning to Michael, he said, "I'm sorry about this, Michael, but I've got to check a few things. I'll see you tomorrow, and thanks again. For everything." He took Garibaldi's hand, and shook it firmly, closing his other hand on top briefly.

Zack looked after the Captain as he walked away, his expression slightly mutinous. "What more does he want, anyway?"

Michael shook his head, "He's right to be suspicious. Hell, he might even be more suspicious than I am, but that's a good thing, considering our circumstances." He looked at Zack with the first smile anyone had seen on him for a good long while, "Good shooting there, partner." Zack looked pleased, but his smile faded when Michael went on, "Sloppy work with the guards though. And you'd better talk to Jenkins. He didn't notice a thing, and his link should have been buzzing his hand off!" Michael sauntered off down the corridor, calling back to the crestfallen Zack, and the oblivious Jenkins, "Come on, boy! Time to go home."

When they reached his quarters, Garibaldi said good night to his guard, and closed the door behind him. Heaving a deep sigh, he leaned against the door for a moment. It was good to be back, even with his babysitter outside. Running his hand over his head, he wondered if he'd lost even more hair with this last escapade. Let's see, in the last month or so, he'd disappeared in the middle of a battle, been jettisoned in a life-pod and left for dead, taken over the station in a well-executed (if he did say so himself) coup, spent time in his own jail, interrogated dozens of Rangers, captured some Minbari thugs- it was a wonder he had any hair left. He left his small, comfortable, but eclectically furnished living area, and headed towards the bath. Glancing back at the kitchen, he wished he'd thought to stop and pick up some supplies. There was nothing he'd like better than to spend some time in the kitchen.

He could probably throw something together, he thought, as he ran a brush over his head while taking a mental inventory. He was sure he had some dried pasta, and freeze-dried tomatoes, some spices. He started to whistle, and considered inviting Nanny in for dinner. Nah, sometimes even two's a crowd. He picked up his razor to clear off the stubble adorning his cheeks and jaw. He'd needed a shave for a couple of days now, but had let it go in his eagerness to get the job done. Sheridan had been staring at him a bit; probably jealous. Stubble wouldn't dare take up permanent residence on that man's chin. As he looked up into the mirror at his lathered image, he saw...something, first out of the corner of his eye.

And then it was there, in front of him, staring at him from out of the mirror, from behind his own eyes. It was black and oily and had eyes that were wrong, the wrong shape, dozens of 'em, red like blood and fire and death. His mouth opened in shock, and he almost choked on his own fear as the thing in the mirror looked back at him, tilting its head as if in query. Then a dry rustling voice sounded inside his head, and he froze as he realized what it was. What was inside of him.

_I am called Vash. Greetings, Mr. Garibaldi._

The next day, Delenn left MedLab, over Stephen's protests. Although she and John had decided to spend most of their time in Sheridan's quarters, they kept Delenn's quarters for ambassadorial business, which she continued to perform with no news from Minbar of a replacement having been chosen. Her conversion to worker caste had thrown the Minbari leadership into turmoil. The warrior caste maintained their support of her clan's declaration of mal'cra, as was to be expected. The religious caste was torn, with some clans supporting mal'cra, and others denouncing it. The worker caste leaders were perhaps a little smug, enjoying their new radical reputation and their elevation as the caste which included the Chosen of Dukhat.

Since the Grey Council had been broken, decisions were made by individual caste leaders, in loose confederation and consultation with one another, with the remnants of the Council making the official pronouncements. It was not a very functional system, and was becoming less so as time went on. The caste leaders had decided to leave Delenn as ambassador, little caring about the position, the station, or its mission. No one bother to officially notified her. The religious caste had chosen to ignore the appalling fact of her continuing the joining rituals with Sheridan Starkiller, feeling that it was the worker caste's problem now. The warrior caste did not approve, and forcefully made their opposition felt at every turn they could. Still, it was up to her own clan and caste to approve or disapprove, and so the warriors' opinion was of no moment, at least at this juncture.

One problem that remained was the leadership of the Rangers. With the backing of the Grey Council, and at Delenn's suggestion, the human Sinclair had led the mixed force of Rangers for over a year, and well, to all accounts. When Sinclair had disappeared, Delenn had succeeded him. Much of the warrior caste had washed their hands of the Rangers long ago; a weak force designed to oppose a non-existent enemy. The initial attempt to stop Delenn's confirmation as Entil'zha had not succeeded.

After the Shadows had reappeared as a force in the Universe, even attacking some or the more remote Minbari colonies, the warriors thought again to take the Rangers back under their control. They did not have the backing of the other castes so far. Still, they remained adamant that Delenn be removed as Anla'Shok Na, as leader. Her status as Entil'zha was determined by the Rangers themselves and could not be rescinded. The workers were just as adamant she not be removed, and they pointed out that the Rangers renounced caste and clan affiliation when the joined, so what caste Entil'zha belonged to was moot. Also of course, there was the issue of whether the Rangers would follow anyone besides Delenn.

Still, the warrior caste was resolute, and their leaders were beginning to influence the more easily swayed of the worker and religious caste leaders. In fact, the warriors had begun consolidate power, and take the bulk of the decision-making to themselves. They argued that this was necessary in a time of war, for warriors to lead and others to follow, but there was some resistance, and much resentment. It did not bode well for the future.

The plans for the Great War proceeded apace. More ships were arriving daily as the combined ravages of the Shadow's and Vorlon's renewed attacks convinced the non-aligned to become aligned. Susan and Lorien were due back any minute. The War Council had been meeting daily, if only for a short period, to keep everyone up to date on events. While John was gone, Susan had been running Babylon 5 almost single-handedly; now that she was off-station again, that burden fell squarely back on John's shoulders. He and Delenn barely saw each other, even though they shared the same quarters. He still hadn't told her about the twenty year limitation on his lifespan which drove him as hard as the never ending casualties of the war. He knew she was distracted and withdrawn, but she attended to her duties, and more. She was not sleeping well, when she slept at all.

Lennier saw it clearly, but could not break through her unwillingness to discuss what was wrong. He hesitated to broach the subject with Captain Sheridan, firm in his conviction that Delenn's relationship with the Captain lay at the heart of her difficulties. He thought about Marcus, but the Ranger wasn't sympathetic to that viewpoint, and besides, Marcus had almost no free time. Lennier decided to talk with Marthier. She was Delenn's clan sister, and so it was appropriate to consult her.

Marthier listened carefully to Lennier's story, thanked him for bringing Delenn's situation to her attention, and promised to see what she could do to be of service. After she had seen Lennier out, she paused to consider what to do. She had a good idea what was affecting Delenn, but it was a delicate subject to bring up with someone she had known so short a time. Still, she was obligated as a clan member, and also she did not like to see anyone suffer when she could help. She contacted Delenn and requested a private meeting that evening in her quarters. Then she went to collect what would be needed for the ceremony.

Marthier arrived at Delenn and John's quarters that evening carrying several packages. Delenn let her in, with a formal bow, but obvious reluctance in her attitude. Marthier sighed internally; this was going to be difficult if Delenn was not ready to participate in the Unbinding. After a few formalities, they sat on opposite ends of the couch. Marthier had placed her packages on the floor in front of her. She then began, "Jenell and I had a child, back on Minbar. A girl-child."

Delenn looked surprised, and said, "Is she with your family, or in training?"

"No," Marthier looked down at her hands, "She isn't. She died when she was five years old. Many of our children do die young. This is true in every caste, as you know."

Delenn impulsively reached out to take the other woman's hands in her own, "I am so sorry, Marthier. I know only slightly what it is like to…" she hesitated, then stammered, "to l-lose a child. It must have been hard for you both, after years together as a family…"

Marthier looked at Delenn, and said "It was almost a year before I could face the ritual. But it had to be done, as you have to do it now. You have to let your water-child go. A part of its soul is still bound to you. If the child is to be reborn at another time, it must be returned whole to the Universe. You know this is true."

Delenn looked down, and tried to pull her hands away from Marthier's grasp. "I am not yet ready. I have tried to prepare myself, but I cannot see my way clear…there is so much else to do…"

"Delenn," Marthier said gently, "I am not telling you anything you do not already know. This is why you cannot sleep, why you cannot focus. Are you able to meditate, to pray? You cannot take part of this child's soul with you into the fire, you know that. You will not be whole, and you cannot take up your life's task, with this left undone."

Delenn stopped struggling, and with tears in her eyes, replied, "I know you are right, but it is hard to let go. We had so little time together, and it was ended so abruptly and so horribly. We had just begun the bonding. And then it was over." A tear slid down her cheek.

Marthier drew her close in a light embrace, "My sister, I know all too well. But you will not fully heal until the ritual is complete. Your life is perilous right now; you cannot risk the possibility of going beyond the rim as you are. Does your mate need the ritual also, or had he not yet begun the bonding?"

Delenn said miserably, "I do not know. We have not discussed it. In fact, I have barely seen him the last few days. This has only made things worse, I fear."

"Well, we can perform the ritual for you, and repeat it for him if he desires it. Often the male begins the bonding later than the female...perhaps he did not know about the child before it was gone? Do you expect him home tonight?"

"No, I believe he has meetings scheduled until late tonight, and he said he might go back to the War Room afterwards."

"Well, we could go to your quarters, but I think you might be more comfortable here. Do you wish him notified so he can attend the ritual with you, or be here when it is over?"

"No," Delenn said reluctantly, "I do not think so. He has so much to do, he does not need additional worries."

Marthier looked at her with exasperation. "He is your mate, is he not? Is he not entitled to know when you are in pain, or in need? You do him no favors and show him no honor shutting him out of your life at this time."

Delenn just shook her head, so Marthier sighed and nodded acceptance of her decision. She began to lay out the contents of her packages on the table in front of the couch. Delenn helped by clearing the table of the accumulated papers, books, candles, that covered the surface. She was gathering up some intricately coiled and twisted pieces of wire and carefully placing them on the breakfast bar when Marthier interrupted, "What are those? They are not jewelry, I think?"

Delenn smiled, "They are puzzles. Pieces of wire that fit together and can be taken apart with some mental effort and physical dexterity. John loves them. I think he finds them relaxing in a perverse way."

Marthier examined them carefully, "This is a novel idea. I think these might be popular on Minbar, and Jenell's metalworking skills would be ideal for fashioning them into both activity and art. Might I borrow a few to show him?"

"Of course, I will find some older ones for you to take. Once John has solved them, he seldom returns to them again. He says the challenge is gone once he has found the solution."

"A wise man," commented Marthier, "I will need a carafe of clear water, Delenn, and a firelighter." The table was now cleared and she lay a square of sky blue silk in the center. It lay in gentle folds, looking rather like waves against the dark wood of the table. On the silk she lay a shallow silver dish. It was hammered metal, with overlapping circles clearly marked in the soft sheen of the brushed surface. She took the carafe Delenn handed her and carefully filled the dish almost to the brim. She then floated an ivory candle disc on the surface of the water. She laid out a small pair of silver scissors, a large ivory pillar candle, and a short piece of black silk cord. She paused to ask Delenn, "How far along was the pregnancy?"

"About eight weeks by the human calendar."

Marthier nodded and tied two knots in the black cord, off to one side. She then lit the tall candle, and the disc floating in the water. "We must meditate and focus on the water-child that you and your mate created. You must take hold of the bond that you had begun to weave between your souls and prepare to sever it. The Unbinding has begun."

As the candle flame flickered, the two women meditated on the vagaries of a Universe that would hold out the hope and promise of love made flesh, then remove it before the promise was fulfilled. The small candle drifted from one side of the disk to the other wafted by unseen currents in the room, by the soft breathing of the two participants. Finally, Marthier opened her eyes, and said "It is time."

Delenn looked back at her, solemn, eyes full of pain, but with a hope of peace lying behind them. Marthier took up the cord, holding it taut between her hands. "Now you must sever the ties you had begun to weave between yourself and your child-that-was-to-be. The part of its soul that you still hold in your heart must be set free to rejoin the rest. The Universe calls out for it, you must give it peace and hope of future rebirth. Release it with love, so it may find love in whatever future awaits it. Release it with joy, so it may know it was wanted and may know peace. Release it with hope, so it may return to you if the Universe wills it."

Delenn's shaking hands took up the scissors and cut the cord down the middle, the two halves were released, and fell onto the blue silk. At that instant, the candle floating on the water winked out. Both women had tears in their eyes, as Marthier declared, "The Universe has accepted your child, Delenn. Its soul is whole and at peace. The Unbinding is complete."

Both women sat quietly for a few moments. Marthier stirred and said, "I think you should go lie down now. You are obviously tired, and emotionally exhausted as well. I will clean up."

Delenn made a token protest, but acquiesced quickly enough and disappeared into the bedroom. Marthier quickly packed up her things, then stopped outside the bedroom door and looked in without speaking. Delenn lay on her side, eyes closed, breathing slowly. She was still dressed, but Marthier didn't want to disturb her, so she gently pulled the doors closed, lowered the lights, and left without another word. Once outside, she paused to consider her next move. She knew the Captain even less well than Delenn, and so hesitated to interfere in their personal lives, but she felt strongly that Delenn had been left alone with her pain for too long, and this was probably due more to cultural misunderstanding than neglect. She steeled herself and headed for the War Room.

Once she reached the corridor leading to C&C, she was stopped by security. Explaining her errand, one of the guards offered to take a message to the Captain. She simply sent the words 'Delenn needs you'. She felt it was sufficient. She didn't have to wait long; she saw the Captain striding down the corridor, the tunic of his uniform flapping in his haste. He stopped in front of her and simply said, "My office, please. We can have some privacy there." He gestured he towards an open doorway and followed close on her heels.

Once inside, he closed the door with a word, then turned and said, "Tell me what this is all about. Is Delenn all right?"

Marthier paused, searching for words that would convey the situation without unduly alarming the anxious, yet impatient man in front of her. He had so much on his mind right now, as did Delenn, but she strongly felt that the emotional fallout from the miscarriage must be brought out into the open lest it hamper either of them in the trials that awaited. She looked the Captain in the eye and said, "Have you talked with Delenn about the miscarriage, Captain?"

Sheridan stared at her for a moment, obviously biting back a retort, then said, with a distinct edge in his voice, "No, I haven't. She hasn't wanted to discuss it. And I am unsure why I am discussing it with you."

"I have just come from Delenn. I helped her with the Zann'felisil'cha, the ritual of Unbinding. Her behavior had become erratic, and Lennier asked me to intervene, though he did not completely understand what was wrong. You see, Minbari believe expectant parents form a bond with an unborn child, that their souls become linked. This bond becomes stronger as the child develops, deepens after birth, then begins to fade as the child grows. It never goes away completely, but at the age of maturity tradition requires that the parents release the child's soul. It is a joyful ceremony at adulthood, and a sad but necessary one when a child dies, or when a child is never born. With a water-child, one yet in the womb and largely unformed, the bond is weak, but it is there. Delenn had begun this bonding, and when the tie was severed so abruptly, she held onto a piece of the child's soul."

Sheridan looked stricken. "Behaving erratically? We've hardly seen each other the last few days….is she all right? Was I supposed to be involved in this ritual?"

"Not necessarily. Expectant fathers bond later than mothers do—that is basic biology. We believe the child's soul will return to the Universe to be reborn another time, another place. But the rebirth cannot take place if the soul is incomplete. "

"All right. What do you want me to do?"

"Go to her, Captain. She should not be alone when she wakes. The bond is broken now, and she will feel the loss. It is much like breaking a fever or draining a wound; painful at the time, but now the healing can begin. She didn't want to burden you…but I suspected you would want to know. I hope you can forgive the intrusion, but she is my clan-sister, and I have to act in her behalf."

"There is nothing to forgive. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Marthier. I will not forget it."

Marthier bowed and left the room, satisfied that she had done her best for Delenn. Hopefully now both she and her mate could move beyond their loss, and focus all their attention on the battles to come.

John stopped back at the War Room to let them know where he would be, but instructed those on duty not to interrupt him unless it was necessary. Then he walked slowly towards his quarters. Marthier had told him that Delenn had been sleeping when she left, so he felt no real urgency, but he didn't linger either. To tell the truth, he was uncertain what he should say or do when he got there. He hadn't worked through his own feelings about the miscarriage, pushing it aside as he dealt with both the trivia and the emergencies facing him daily. Marthier was right, in that he hadn't begun to feel any real connection with the child; it hadn't seemed quite real to him. He felt ashamed too, that he had been too busy to notice that Delenn was suffering. Still, the least he could do was be there, whether she wanted to talk, or cry, or send him away.

He entered a darkened room, with no sound detectable. "Delenn?" he called. There was no answer. He approached the sliding doors to the bedroom, which were slightly ajar. He pulled them apart gently, trying to make as little noise as possible in case she was sleeping. He saw her lying quietly on the bed. She was lying on her back, and her breathing was a little too irregular for her to be sleeping. He sat on the side of the bed, took her small hand in his large one, and said, "Hey there, how are you?"

She looked away for a moment and sighed, before saying, "Marthier told you, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did. And she was right to do so. What affects you, affects me, you know. You can't shut me out of this. I'm just sorry that with all we have going on, I didn't see how much pain you were in."

"You were not to know. I hid it very well, even from myself. And I was not ready for the ritual, at least, I thought I was not ready."

"Did it help? Are you feeling better about…things?" he said awkwardly.

"I am. I should have performed the ritual before, but it was hard to face letting go. And I had no one to take me through it; it's not one I had ever performed before. And hopefully I never will again." She squeezed his hand tightly, and reached up with her other hand to caress his face. "One of your poets said, 'We only begin to live when we have conceived life as tragedy.' I feel as if this is another new beginning."

He leaned over and kissed her gently. "What can I do to help you through this? Some old-fashioned 'tea and sympathy'? A shoulder to cry on?"

She smiled up at him, "Can you spare an hour or so? We have had almost no time to ourselves these past few days. Tell me what is going on. Have you heard from Susan?"

He settled back on the pillows, and let her nestle into his arms. "She'll be back tomorrow, with Lorien. Then we can set our plans in motion." His voice turned grim. "There's only one thing left to do before we start. We have to get rid of Ulkesh. He's a liability now, a potential disaster for our plans if he discovers them. The Vorlons have made their choice. Now it's time we made ours."


	6. Choices

**A Day Late: Choices**

Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or settings or backgrounds. But they are my words.

_"Maybe the greatest challenge now is to find a way to keep independence while also committing ourselves to the ties that bind people, families, and ultimately societies together."_  
-Jane O'Reilly

* * *

Michael Garibaldi sat in his quarters, his head cradled in his hands. Things had finally seemed to be going his way, and now this. When everyone found out about his new-found friend, he'd end up back in his own cells, and this time they'd throw the key out the nearest airlock. He couldn't blame them either; since it seemed he was carrying around one of their mortal enemies in his head.

_A shadow of a Shadow merely,_ came the dry whisper he'd already come to loathe.

"Shut up!" he shouted to the empty room. He got up and started to pace the room, pausing only to knock over a chair that got in his way. Kicking it across the room gave him some satisfaction, but it didn't last. What was he going to do? He couldn't in good conscience keep this to himself. Who knows how long the thing had been influencing his thoughts, and his behavior?

_I have no power over you. I am here because I have no other place to be._

He hated that wistful note. "You can't make me feel sorry for you, you know. You're the one who's out of place. I want you out of my head!" He slammed his head into the wall in sheer frustration.

_You will injure yourself, and I will still be here._

"Yeah, well, maybe you're just saying that! How do I know whether you're telling me the truth?" Michael thought longingly of going out and getting blisteringly drunk...but Jenkins or his replacement wouldn't take kindly to that, he imagined. He was trapped in here with this...thing. He was used to feeling trapped, and afraid. The booze helped with that, at least for a while. Slumping back down onto the bed, he laid back against the pile of pillows, feeling the softness of the silk and velvet squares of the quilt cushioning his weary body.

_I could tell you why I am here_, came the voice, again sounding almost hesitant.

A shy Shadow, Michael thought bitterly, then, well, why not? It wasn't like he was going anywhere. "Go ahead. But don't expect me to believe you."

_I expect nothing from you. I am your prisoner._

Michael felt an unexpected stab of sympathy. "I'm listening," he said, settling back against the headboard with his hands behind his head.

Zack stopped by the main offices of Security and made sure there was someone on duty there who could cover for him. He tried manfully not to notice the whispers and smiles that attended his announcement that he was taking off early. A couple of the guards started commenting on the unusual amount of traffic and the number of ships arriving, new and different ones all the time. "Aw, give it a rest," he finally exploded when one of the men casually mentioned that Zack was out of uniform. "I'm just going out for a little bit. A man's entitled to some time off, isn't he?" He stalked out of the room to the general laughter from his men.

Tugging on the jacket he'd pulled over his cleanest civilian shirt, he walked to Red Sector, where Lyta's quarters were located. She was near the diplomatic sector, but not in it, and he wondered briefly if he should have picked up some flowers, or even some takeout. That would be pushing it, he decided. She'd asked him to stop by, not stay over. He felt the heat rise in his face at the thought, and wondered if everyone passing could see the blush spread over his cheeks. Sighing heavily, he wondered if he'd ever get any further with someone like Lyta; smart, beautiful, talented. She always seemed so lonely, though, and she seemed to appreciate his friendship. He supposed it was her psychic powers; he knew it discouraged some people from even making friends with teeps, but he couldn't see that it mattered. They took vows, like priests, and kept them, most of 'em anyway. He knew Lyta did. She was a wonderful woman, he thought, and then he realized suddenly he was there. Swallowing his nervousness, he hit the door chime.

"Come in, Zack," came her voice over the 'com. He wondered briefly how she 'knew' it was him, then shook himself. He'd told her he'd be over as soon as he could; what was he thinking? She wouldn't even casually scan someone without their permission. She was too straight up for that. Entering the room, he saw her standing by the only furniture in the room, a mattress on the floor. He hated that she was still living this way. Crossing to where she stood, her arms wrapped around herself, he cleared his throat and said, "You wanna go out somewhere? Get some dinner? Catch a show at one of the clubs DownBelow?"

Lyta wondered if there was something wrong with her. Zack was still acting like a high schooler on a first date. She'd thought they had progressed beyond that, beyond being just casual friends. When he'd said good-bye to her, when she'd left the station...surely she hadn't imagined the longing in his eyes, the fear in his voice at the possibility he'd never see her again. She'd felt it herself, to her intense surprise. It was easier with fellow telepaths; you could subtly reveal how you felt, mind to mind, and you ended up with a pretty clear idea of each other's feelings. With normals it was all so much harder.

Zack looked at Lyta, really looked at her, beyond her good looks and surface poise. She looked scared, and nervous, as nervous as he felt. Maybe it was time to take a chance, he thought, and he moved closer to her, and put his arms gently around her, "I missed you. When I heard you'd gone back there, back to Vorlon space...I thought I'd never see you again." He ducked his head awkwardly, avoiding her glance, but then met her eyes again, struck by how beautiful they were- pools of blue the color of the sky. Been a while since he'd seen the sky. Clearing his throat, he went on, "And I wanted to see you again. I wanted to tell you..."

"What?" Lyta asked, a little breathless. Whatever she had expected, it wasn't this, not exactly. She was trembling from the force of her emotions; how had she gotten so close to this gangly, gentle, funny man? She'd never had a relationship with a non-telepath before; it a way it was exhilarating, not knowing what he was going to say, what he was thinking. She shifted a little, fitting herself into his loose embrace. Watching as his eyes widened, she tilted her head up to his, and half-closed her eyes, wondering if the signal would be understood. As his arms tightened around her, and his lips finally touched hers, she knew it had been. Clearly, and completely, understood.

Standing outside the Captain's quarters early the next morning, Michael Garibaldi was trying to work up the courage to do what he had to do. He hit the door chime, and when he heard the invitation to enter, he hesitated one last time. This was going to be hard, really hard. Stepping inside, his Security guard behind him, he said, "Captain. I need to speak with you, privately."

Sheridan looked at Michael's grey and weary face, and considered the request. Before he could answer, Michael spoke again.

"Alone, but I want you to make sure you're armed." At Sheridan's look of consternation, he went on, "I'll explain in a minute, but just do as I ask. Please, it's important."

John nodded, and went to a drawer in a chest along the wall. Pulling out a PPG, he inserted the clip and powered it up. "Wait outside," he told the guard, overriding his protests. "Now, what's this about?"

Michael took a deep breath, checked that John was holding the gun ready, and said, "I've got a Shadow in my head."

John stared. "In your head?" Then he muttered, "I'll be damned. So I'm not the only one."

Now it was Michael's turn to stare. "What?" he sputtered. "You've got one too?"

"Well, a Vorlon. Or a piece of one. How did you find out...when did you find out? What's it doing there? Is it controlling you, advising you, or just...there?" The questions came rapid-fire, and the gun was now held steady, and pointed directly at Michael's torso.

"I saw it in a mirror...last night, in my quarters." Michael watched as recognition flooded John's face. "It says it's just observing, not controlling, that it's not able to take over or anything like that. Can't be sure of course. I've done a lot of strange things lately. Then again, I've been known to make my own mistakes. It doesn't have to be as case of 'the alien made me do it' for me to pull something stupid." He swallowed hard, "I can't be sure, and I wanted you to know. I don't think I can be trusted, and I want you to put me back in the brig. Don't tell me anything of your plans, not another word." He looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, I thought I could help, maybe make up for some things, but it doesn't look like that's in the cards."

John looked thoughtfully at Michael, then lowered his weapon, slightly. "How did this happen? Do you know?"

"It happened while you were gone. I was captured, during the battle; the Shadows took my ship inside one of theirs. Looking for information, I guess. Vash...that's the thing's name apparently, says he was part of some sort of rival group. Anyway, they got into the area where I was being held, and he got into my mind, to do some recon. Know your enemy. Vash says the Vorlons do this all the time, but they've just learned how themselves.

When the main group of the Shadows got wind of the rebel faction, they went after them. It was the rebels who came here, looking for you and Lorien after the attack on Z'ha'dum. They didn't want to try to convince you to go along with them. They just wanted you dead. I think attacking Lorien was the last straw for the old guard. The Shadows caught up with the rebels and killed them; all of them.

Apparently they didn't know about the piece left inside of me. Vash's body is gone, so he has nowhere to go. At least that's what he says. Took me a while to decide I wasn't just going nuts. But there's no way I'd come up with this sort of crazy story myself." Michael looked at John, and said, "Better get that gun back up. I have no idea what this thing is up to, beyond what it told me. It's probably just a ploy to get close to you; then 'boom'."

John said, "Sit down." He pointed to a chair in the living area, and waited until Michael sat down, then walked over towards him.

Michael grimaced, wondering if John was going to solve the problem the quick way. People were suspicious enough of him now that if the Captain said he'd been attacked, few would doubt him. "I wouldn't blame you, you know. And frankly, if we can't get this thing out of me, I think I'd rather be taken out clean."

John sat down on the couch opposite Michael. "It's not so bad. Sometimes you get some good advice. The dreams aren't so great." He continued staring at Michael, as if trying to see inside of him, holding the PPG loosely, but still pointed in the right general direction. "I think we need to get some advice on this, from some experts. Meanwhile, I'll leave you under guard and confined to your quarters. I'll have to continue to restrict computer access, of course." He watched as Michael nodded, his eyes still wary. "It might be a good thing...it's possible..." His voice trailed off. "We'll get it fixed, Michael. Don't worry." He called for the door to open, and instructed the guard to take Michael back to his quarters. After they had left, he said softly to himself, "Set a Shadow to catch a Vorlon. Now there's an idea."

John walked into the meeting with a grim expression and a distracted air. Everyone was there except for Lyta Alexander. Zack sat, loose-limbed in his chair, trying to look alert on too little sleep. Delenn was there, talking quietly with G'Kar, her voice low and calm. Susan was tapping a stylus on a datapad, obviously trying to get some work done while she waited. Marcus sat quietly, hands folded in his lap. It almost looked as if he were meditating. Perhaps he was. Lorien was listening to Delenn and G'Kar, but saying nothing. He always had the air of someone who was observing rather than participating. Lyta entered the War Room, and Zack leapt out of his chair to escort her to the table, pulling a chair out for her, and sitting back down beside her.

John began, "I have a plan to get the Vorlon off the station. I'll need a squad of men under you, Zack, and Susan, I'll need you to set up an electrical cross-fire, somewhere big, where we have room to set up a Security team, and maneuver a little. We need to pin him down, and get him out of that suit. Lorien and I will deal with him after that." He looked at Lyta, "I need you to lure him out of his quarters, and maneuver him into position. Can you do that?"

She looked at him, startled. "I'm not sure. He doesn't exactly follow my direction, Captain."

"I have some...information that you can use. I'm pretty sure he won't be able to resist. You'll have to shield your knowledge of what's coming, as best you can. Once we have him in position, we'll attack with all we've got. It won't be enough, but that's where the next part comes in." He exchanged a quick glance with Lorien. He saw that Delenn was watching carefully but she said nothing. "I'll need this all in place by this afternoon. Lyta, Lorien, stay behind. I need to speak to you, and then there's someone I want you to meet."

Zack looked as if he was about to explode. Military hierarchy kept him silent for about a minute, then he managed to say, "Captain, how dangerous is this going to be? For Lyta, I mean? Should we be involving civilians?"

Lyta started to protest, but her words were overridden by John's. "Ms. Alexander is being asked to volunteer, Mr. Allan. I would say it's up to her. We need her to do this, but no, I don't plan to force her. She knows what's at stake as well as the rest of us."

"I'll do it," said Lyta. "I'll be fine. The Vorlons never discard a useful tool," she added, with a touch of bitterness. Zack looked as if he had been slapped, but stayed silent.

Susan rose from the table. "If that's it, Captain, I need to get back to C&C. I've got work to do. I'll arrange the grid, down in the warehouse area, by noon today. Link in when you're ready to do it." She gave John a stern look, "We'd better start this party soon. The fleet's ready; it's been ready. If you want to hold them together we have to show them some action plans. Sitting around is just making everybody nervous."

"I agree," said G'Kar. "Delenn and I plan to do the rounds this morning, speaking to representatives of all the races in the fleet. We will do our best to reassure them that our plans are progressing."

Zack got up without speaking, merely nodding briefly to the Captain. Lyta put her hand on his arm, and mouthed the words, "Don't worry." Her smile was bright, but taut with a barely hidden fear. Zack's eyes softened as he looked down at her, but he still said nothing.

The group broke up, with Lyta and Lorien still seated; Lyta talking with G'Kar. John took Delenn aside to confer quietly with her, and Marcus waited patiently. He planned to accompany Delenn on her errands, a self-appointed bodyguard. His eyes half-closed, looking to the casual observer as if he was barely paying attention, Marcus watched Susan leave the room. Once she was gone, he walked over to speak with Zack, who was lingering near the door, also watching, seemingly reluctant to leave.

"She'll be fine, you know," he said, jerking his head towards Lyta. He looked towards the door where Susan had exited, then back at Delenn, and then at Lyta. "Scary and strong, those three. I'm just glad they're on our side."

"Lyta shouldn't have to do this; she's no soldier. The Captain shouldn't put her out there on the front lines like that." Zack was quietly fuming. "It's not her fight!"

"Of course it is," Marcus looked at him in surprise. "It's everyone's fight now. Lyta knows that, and so do you when you're thinking clearly. And she has her own abilities to draw on, possibly more than we understand. Still, I know how you feel. If I could knock Susan out, hogtie her, and leave her behind when we finally go into the battle, I would. She'd kill me, of course, assuming I made it back. Love makes cowards of us all, Mr. Allan. Welcome to the club." He looked over at Sheridan pointedly, "And there's the club president."

"No way the Captain's a coward," said Zack quickly.

"He is when it comes to her," said Marcus, looking at Delenn. Then quietly, he added to himself, "I can't quite blame him, but he's wrong not to tell her."

"Tell her what?" asked Zack, and then, at Marcus' look of admonition, he sighed and muttered, "I know, none of my business. I'd better go get that team together, and break out the heavy weapons. Something tells me we're gonna need some major league firepower."

John waited until only Lyta and Lorien were left around the table. He got up, asked them to follow, and then led them to Garibaldi's quarters. The guard indicated that Michael was inside, and all had been quiet since he'd gotten back early that morning from his meeting with Sheridan. John asked the guard for his weapon, and after checking it was armed, used his card to open the door. He went in first, PPG raised, and Lyta, her expression confused and worried, and an impassive Lorien, entered behind him.

Michael was sitting at the dining area table, a glass of water in front of him. He looked up as they entered, and rose to his feet, his hands at his sides, his fists open and slack. "Come to see the show?" he quipped, looking directly at John, who held his weapon casually, but to Michael's eye, in readiness. He saw Lorien advance closely, and look at him up and down, then shake his head. Lyta just looked impatient.

"Why are we here, Captain? Is Mr. Garibaldi part of your plans for this afternoon?" She looked at Michael with suspicion. "Why should we trust him at this point?"

John replied, without taking his eyes off Michael, "I think he has something unique to offer in this situation. I told you that I had some information that might entice the Vorlon to leave his quarters." He paused to indicate that they should all be seated. Lorien sat next to Garibaldi in one of the chair around the table. Lyta took a more comfortable seat on the couch in the living area. "You can tell him that there is a piece of Kosh still here, on the station. That you can lead him to it. I know they wanted everything back, all the clothing, all the personal effects, all the pieces we could find...but we kept one."

Lyta looked at him speculatively. "He was traveling, wasn't he? Not with me this time."

John nodded, "He came to me just before he died. Part of him stayed."

"It might work, " Lyta said thoughtfully. "He's asked me about it before. What do you plan to do once he finds out it's you?"

"We have a plan," said John shortly. He didn't have to look at Lorien for Lyta to understand who he meant.

Lorien had been staring at Michael since he had sat next to him, "Are you coming with us?" he asked. "You and your...friend?"

Michael swallowed convulsively. He hated that unblinking stare. "I don't know. Whatever the Captain needs me to do, I guess."

John said decisively, "I think two lures might be better than one." Looking at Lyta, he asked her. "Do you think the Ambassador would like a chance to confront Kosh's killers? Or one of them at least?"

Lyta stared at him in shock, then looked over at Garibaldi, almost unconsciously backing away from him, shrinking back against the couch cushions. "He might. But they're not much for direct confrontation."

Lorien asked John, "Shouldn't we ask it if it wants to help us?"

John looked uncertainly at Michael, "I suppose. But how do we do that, exactly?"

Lorien also looked at Michael. "I can bring him forward, and let him speak. With your permission, of course. There is rather more of him left in you, than of the Vorlon inside the Captain. Still he is weaker. I do not believe the Shadows, as you call them, are adept at this type of 'travel'."

"He said they were new at it," answered Michael. "His name is Vash, by the way. And I think you should talk to him. Still, this is my body, and it's my decision where it goes. If I can help, then we're going with the Captain...to do...whatever it is we're going to do." He looked at John, and said, "You really shouldn't tell me any more about this. Just point me where you need me, and I'll be there."

John nodded. "I appreciate that, Michael, and I think it'll help or I wouldn't ask." He looked at his friend, reassuring him, reclaiming him, "I trust you." He said with a slight smile, "I think any stupid mistakes you made were your own."

Michael swallowed hard, and said, "Gee, thanks." Then he turned to Lorien, "Go ahead. Ask him. Ask Vash what he wants."

Lorien nodded, and focused his suddenly bright and penetrating gaze on Michael, who stared back, his blue eyes fixed and unblinking. His mouth opened, his lips didn't move, and yet words emerged from his throat. The voice wasn't his, it was barely a whisper, with an odd metallic twang underlying the dry tones.

_I want nothing. Perhaps to go on living. That is all, but I know that it is a great deal to ask. _

John held the PPG steadily aimed at Michael, his face grim. "We want you to act as bait, Vash. It's not you we're after, it's the Vorlon ambassador. You just have to let Michael stand there and wait. On my signal, he'll dive for cover. It'll be over soon after that."

Vash laughed, a hoarse dusty sound. _Soon? I am afraid you are over-confident, Captain._ Michael turned to face Lorien._ We looked for you when you left us._ Swiveling his head back to John, Michael's blank expression didn't reflect the curiosity and disbelief behind the words that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him. _He came with you willingly, after you had killed so many of us. He left us to go with you. _

John could hear the rage behind the voice, and he said calmly, "Yes, he did. He wants to stop all this, and so do I. And you can help, or you can stand aside. It really doesn't matter to me."

Vash laughed. The sound was disjointed and disconcerting, coming as it did from a slack-jawed and blank-eyed Garibaldi. _You are bold. You know what you want; that is good. I will not interfere._

Early that morning, Lennier had received a message from Minbar that a new leader of the Rangers would arrive that day at Babylon 5. Shocked at first, he was not surprised once he stopped to consider it. He called ahead to see if Delenn was available to speak with him, and found that she had returned from a round of morning meetings she and G'Kar had held with the fleet captains and ambassadors. She and Sheridan were both in her quarters at the moment, which was fortuitous timing.

He approached Delenn's quarters with some hesitation, anticipating her, and the Captain's, reaction. Marcus was at the door, apparently just leaving. Lennier touched his sleeve, and said, "I think you should stay a moment, Marcus. This concerns you as well."

Marcus shrugged and replied, "All right, Lennier. Let's go in and hear what you have to say." He remained concerned about Lennier's reaction to Sheridan and Delenn's relationship. There was definitely potential trouble there. He watched as Delenn happily welcomed Lennier, who couldn't conceal his discomfort. _Uh-oh _ Marcus thought to himself. He leaned against the wall, nervously extending and retracting his denn'bok, and awaited whatever bad news Lennier was about to break to them.

"Neroon!" exclaimed Marcus and Sheridan together. Delenn looked a little unhappy, but also thoughtful.

Lennier nodded, and said, "Yes, apparently they feel the Rangers would be better with a warrior leading them in the war effort, and Neroon was chosen…"

Sheridan looked as if he was about to explode, "Do they really think I'd let a warrior caste Minbari onto Babylon 5 right now? And Neroon! He tried to kill Delenn before..hell, Marcus, he almost did kill you!"

Marcus was watching Delenn's reaction carefully, then he looked at Sheridan and replied, "We did come to a meeting of the minds, you know. One warrior to another, as it were. He's not such a bad fellow, really."

Delenn broke in, "I will speak with Neroon about this, John. I think we may be able to turn this to our advantage."

"I don't want you alone with that maniac, Delenn! What if he's been sent to finish the job this time! And leading the Rangers! Who do they think they are?" continued Sheridan in a rage stalking around the room.

"Marcus will be with me at the meeting. And Lennier, if he will. I will be well protected." Delenn said calmly. "This is an internal Minbari affair, love. You must leave it to me."

"I thought we had joint command of the Rangers, Delenn," Sheridan said with a hint of danger in his voice, "Or was that just for show?"

Delenn laughed quietly, "Not just for show. My command of military tactics is limited, although you are an excellent teacher. But I am Entil'zha, and the Rangers are my special responsibility. I must deal with this myself."

Neroon stepped onto Babylon 5 with some trepidation, although it was completely concealed. He didn't know what kind of reception he would get; from the station's command staff, the Minbari living there, or the Rangers themselves. He didn't even know if the Rangers had been informed that he was taking command from Delenn. What he didn't expect to see was Lennier, flanked by a squad of Rangers, awaiting him in the reception area.

"Follow me, Shai Alyt, " said Lennier with a bow. Neroon fell into step with him, and the Rangers took up positions in front and behind the two of them.

"And where are we going, Lennier?" asked Neroon.

"Entil'zha Delenn wishes to see you. To discuss your new assignment. Among other things," replied Lennier.

"The outcast Delenn should no longer be considered Entil'zha, " began Neroon. Instantly two denn'boks were at his throat. Lennier gestured to the two Rangers, who withdrew their weapons, but remained close on either side of Neroon.

"Entil'zha Delenn will speak to you of this as well," said Lennier calmly, as he continued to lead Neroon to Delenn's quarters.

When they reached the door, the Rangers pivoted and stood at attention. Two stayed on either side of the closed doorway, and the others bowed to Neroon and Lennier, then marched off. Lennier hit the com link and the door opened. Delenn sat on a couch facing the doorway. She was in Valen's robe, upright and regal, with her hands clasped in her lap. Marcus stood to her right, denn'bok in hand. Lennier took his place at her left.

Delenn inclined her head, and spoke, "Sit down, Neroon. We have much to discuss."

Neroon sat in the chair facing Delenn, and spoke "You know why I have come?"

Delenn answered deliberately, "I know what they have told Lennier. Will you tell me now?"

Neroon smiled, and said, "I am come to see whether this situation can be salvaged, Delenn ra'Ell. And what purpose I can fulfill, and what position you should hold."

Delenn smiled back, and looked up at Marcus and Lennier, "You may leave us now. Wait outside until I call."

Lennier remonstrated, "Delenn, Captain Sheridan charged us with your safety. I think he meant us to guard your person, not your door."

Delenn looked at Neroon, and asked "Can I have your word that I will be safe with you, Neroon?"

Neroon nodded, looking first Lennier, then Marcus, in the eyes, "You have my word as a warrior and a Star Rider."

Marcus bowed to Delenn, and said, "We will wait, Entil'zha," and left the room. Lennier hesitated, then bowed and left as well.

"Does this mean you trust me, Delenn?" asked Neroon.

"After a fashion," replied Delenn enigmatically, but she smiled as she said it. "I have a proposal for you, Neroon. I hope you can find it in your heart to accept it. We are approaching a crisis in the war against our Enemy, and we need to be united against them if we are to survive, and to win. My situation threatens our unified front; even the Rangers are falling prey to division and doubt. Your taking command would only accelerate the process, splitting our forces when we need to act as one."

"What do you suggest, Delenn? I have been sent to take command of the Rangers from you. I cannot go against the dictates of my clan and the Council." replied Neroon.

"Command them as Anla'Shok Na, Neroon. The position is that of first among equals. You are that and more. However, you will have to accept Captain Sheridan's and my joint authority. We have laid out a strategy to engage and defeat our enemies, but we need seasoned warriors to lead, and help in the implementation. I will remain as Entil'zha; that position is an honor bestowed from within the Anla'Shok. If you try to change this, I do not believe the Rangers will accept you." said Delenn.

Neroon sat back in the chair. "It could work, I suppose, if the Rangers will work with me. And if I can work with Sheridan. That last is a rather large 'if', Delenn. When it gets back to Minbar that I have been taking orders from Starkiller, it will not go down well."

Delenn nodded, her expression serious, her tone urgent, "I will send Marcus in to talk with you of the Rangers' feelings in this matter. Then I will send Captain Sheridan. Talk with him, Neroon. Work with us, rather than against us. If we do not find a way to work together, we shall surely fail in this war, and Minbar will suffer with all the other worlds that fall into Shadow." Delenn rose and opened the door, "Marcus, please answer Neroon's questions, openly and freely, to the best of your ability. Then let Lennier speak to him of the local Minbari and their opinions. I will back with an hour with Captain Sheridan."

Marcus entered the room, and as the door closed behind him, Lennier spoke, "Do you think he will agree, Delenn?"

"I think so. Neroon has always put the best interests of Minbar foremost. I think he will see he can obey the dictates of his clan, and follow his heart, without contradiction or conflict." Delenn bowed slightly, then left in search of Sheridan, to update him on what had happened, and what would be expected of him.

When Delenn returned to her quarters later, she entered to see John and Neroon bent over a list of available ships of the line, pointing and arguing vociferously. A holographic star map hung over a low table. Papers were scattered on the table, the couch, and even the floor.

"You simply do not have enough forces to attack the Enemy, Sheridan! Face facts, man, you are out gunned! You don't even have an idea where they will strike next. It's hopeless!" shouted Neroon.

"We will** find** a way to engage them! And we are adding ships all the time! It's not like Delenn doesn't spend all her time and more cajoling them into adding to our forces. We've sent out missions to seek out any remaining First Ones as are willing to help. And there's Draal and the power of the Great Machine on Epsilon 3…I mean, what do you want from us!" John spoke forcefully, raking his hand through his hair, leaving it standing straight up.

Delenn smiled, "I see you two are getting along splendidly." Both men looked up, startled at her approach. "How can you expect to hear someone entering the room when you won't stop shouting at each other?" she laughed at the expression on their faces. "I certainly hope we will have better look-outs when engaged in battle!"

The com sounded with a familiar phrase, "Captain, Ivanova here."

John looked up at the screen, and said, "What is it, Commander?"

"Everything's in place for the operation we discussed this morning." She pointedly avoided details, with Neroon standing in the background. "We're waiting on you now."

John looked at Delenn and Neroon, and said, "There's something I have to do at this moment. If you'll excuse me." His glance lingered on Delenn, and she nodded to him. He said, "I'll be back soon. Stay here; Neroon can fill you in on what we've been discussing. Maybe you can convince him we've got a chance."

The door had barely closed, when Delenn walked towards it. Neroon watched her impassively, then said, "Would you like company, Entil'zha?"

Looking back at him, considering the offer, she said, "You haven't been offered a tour of the station yet, have you, Shai Alyt? It is remiss of me. Would you care to come with me now?"

He cocked his head, "Are you sure this is a good idea? I am not sure how much he, or anyone, trusts me as of yet."

"Is your concern that I am going, or that I ask you to accompany me?" She challenged him, tilting her chin in defiance. "Are you questioning my judgment, Anla'Shok Na?"

"Either. Both. Perhaps neither. And my concerns are legion." replied Neroon, walking to her side. "While I do not promise to never question you, it was not my intention this time." He gestured towards the door, "Lead, and I will follow."

Delenn walked out the door, with Neroon close behind her.

The players were all assembled and in their places, when Lyta entered from one end of the central passage through the storage area, with the Vorlon gliding behind her. Zack's men were in place, hidden on catwalks above the largely empty space, and behind pillars at floor level. Zack bit his lip hard when he saw Lyta; she looked like it had been a rough sell, getting the Vorlon out of his lair. They should have sent him in; he'd have gotten the alien out of there, even if he had to throw things from the corridor and call him names. He hoisted the rifle in his hands, wishing they were less sweaty. The last thing he wanted to do was miss his aim, especially with Lyta in the line of fire.

"Your mind is closed. What are you hiding?" The Vorlon's voice rang like a tolling bell through the open space. The iris in his helmet opened, and started to glow, first red, then white, like a fire reaching blast temperatures. Lyta had turned and was facing him, transfixed by what she thought might be her last view, but before Ulkesh could do anything, Garibaldi stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the corridor.

"Hey!" he yelled, "Over here! Come see what I've got for you!" Then as Ulkesh turned his attention to Michael, Zack raced out and grabbed Lyta by the arm.

"Get the hell out of there!" he shouted, as he half-pulled, half-threw her behind a pile of crates. Ulkesh fired at them as they ran, and Zack scrambled back up, raising his rifle to his eyes. He was so ready to take out this guy.

John, meanwhile, coldly and calmly gave the command to both the guards in the room and Ivanova in C&C to attack at will. The idea was to pin the Vorlon down, destroy his encounter suit, and then unleash their ultimate weapon. Lorien was in place, hidden on the other side of the room, and would emerge when John went out to confront the Vorlon. Michael was still standing in the center of the room, unprotected, but dove for the floor when the shooting started. Caught by a stray blast from one of his own men, he fell to the floor, then began to slowly pull himself towards cover, dragging his injured leg behind him.

Delenn and Neroon had come up behind Lorien, who was watching the whole scene with some concern. "Too many," was the First One's only comment.

Neroon stared at him, then at Delenn. "What is he?" he whispered to her, pointing to Lorien.

She shook her head, then drew in a breath as she saw Michael fall, and then start crawling towards them. Delenn started out into the field of fire to help him, and stood for a moment transfixed, as Ulkesh turned his sights on her. There was a loud whirring noise, like the engine of a small flyer starting up. There was weapons fire all around them, but nothing reached through Ulkesh's force field. The Vorlon was starting to shake as if he was coming apart, but it didn't stop his aiming his power directly at her. She stood erect, facing him, defiant if terrified.

John was still shouting into his link, ordering the guards to ramp up their fire, when he saw her standing there, like an angel of the battlefield. He yelled at her to get down, and started across the room to where she stood. Ulkesh took his chance, and directed the full force of his blast at John, who was caught in the light like an insect at a street lamp. At the same moment the Vorlon's encounter suit finally gave way to the combination of withering PPG fire and the force of the electrical net set up by Ivanova. As the Vorlon rose up in a fiery column of light, John writhed in the force of the continued assault. He turned his head towards Delenn, gesturing her to get to safety.

Neroon reached out and yanked her backwards, placing his body between her and the Vorlon, while keeping a tight hold on her. Lorien rushed up to the two of them, and then gestured towards John, who turned back toward Ulkesh, and arched his back in agony as light shot out of him.

"Kosh," said Delenn, her voice wavering between awe and fear.

"Yes, and a bit of him, and a bit of me," answered Lorien, who was focused on the effort to allow Kosh to exit John without harming the human. The two Vorlons' energies twined together and rose up, the two of them obviously vying for supremacy, while John slumped to the floor.

Delenn struggled in Neroon's grasp, then snapped his hold and rushed towards John. She watched as the Vorlons left the station, straight through the walls. She felt the tremors as the Vorlon ship tried to join its masters, and heard the far-off explosion as the end came. Looking down at the man in her arms, she realized in horror that he was not breathing. Her mouth worked but nothing emerged; not a scream, not a whimper, not a sound beyond the hollow echo of his name, which pealed in her heart as she struggled with the concept that she might have lost him again.

Lorien knelt beside her and laid his hand on John, who stirred and coughed. She clutched him tightly, smoothing his hair, feeling his warm breath on her hand, dizzy with relief. She barely heard Lorien's words, but could not block out their implication. "How long?," she asked, looking at the alien as her throat tightened on the words.

Lorien didn't answer at first, simply looking at her with a mix of compassion and intense interest, as if she was a model on exhibit, demonstrating feelings he had long forgotten existed. Then he said, "Long enough."

The medical teams had taken everyone away; Michael for treatment, Lyta for observation. Zack had a slight shoulder wound, and refused to go until Lyta laid her hand on his arm, and asked him to accompany her. Then he reluctantly, and shamefacedly, walked alongside her to MedLab. There were three dead guards, and seven wounded, some severely. Ivanova linked in to Sheridan, reporting on the damage to the docking bay where the Vorlon ship had rocked and twisted in its attempt to leave the station before she had released it. She had sent Marcus to escort Neroon to his assigned quarters. Lorien had wandered off; he said he needed to let Velana know what had happened; that she would have felt the conflict from his ship.

John still sat on the floor, having refused medical attention. He couldn't meet Delenn's eyes, full of questions and apprehension of new pain, but he couldn't let go of her hand either. Finally, with her assistance, he rose to his feet, and said, "Come with me. We need to talk."

Marcus had escorted Neroon to his quarters, but the Minbari hadn't stayed there. Once the Ranger had left to attend to other duties, he slipped out of his room, fingering the identicard he had been handed. He wanted to get the feel of this place and the people that he would be expected to work with; both Minbari and human. For the first time in his life, he felt slightly uncertain of his capabilities. The Rangers were warriors, and yet not his caste, at least not many of them were. There were similarities, of course, in their outlook towards battle, and their allegiance to their cause and their leaders. The differences, though, those were also present, and he would have to learn more in order to lead them effectively. He had little time, but as he walked the corridors of the station, his confidence returned.

Reaching the main thoroughfare of commerce know as the Zocalo, he faded in to the shadows of a space between two storefronts to observe. There were large numbers of beings milling about, though he suspected that there was less of a crowd than usual. Everyone here had to know that battle was imminent, and the engagement of the enemy by the Alliance fleet would leave this station largely unprotected, and a tempting target for any enemy. Except perhaps for this one, it occurred to him. The ancient enemy, and their allies turned enemy, the Vorlons, were not like most antagonists. There was something going on underneath the attacks and destruction; some underlying principle that was not obvious, and not being addressed that he had seen. He knew Delenn ra'Mir, or ra'Ell he should get used to saying, and hers was a subtle and quick mind. The human captain was her superior in tactics and warcraft, but only slightly. The two of them together were formidable, and it was only to be expected that they would not fill him in on all the strategic planning yet. It would be good to know their plans, and he awaited that conversation with anticipation.

"Anla'Shok Na," came a quiet voice in greeting behind him. He turned to see Lennier, Delenn's aide, standing in front of a shop window. "Lennier," he returned, bowing his head slightly in the fashion of one greeting a comrade of slightly lower status.

"May I be of service to you?" asked Lennier. "Were you looking for anything in particular?"

Neroon shook his head at first, then said after thinking it over briefly, "I am uncertain how long we will be lingering here on this station. They have assigned me quarters, but there are no supplies. Is there a place where I can purchase food and drink that would not poison me?" He spoke in a dry sarcastic tone; as he knew full well the few actually dangerous substances, and could avoid them with ease. It seemed to him that Lennier wanted company or someone to talk to, and he found that he was not averse to the idea. The crowds of aliens moving through the marketplace were making him slightly uncomfortable.

"Of course," replied Lennier. "Follow me. If it is not too much trouble, I would appreciate some of your time. And perhaps your advice."

Delenn and John entered his quarters in silence, John leading the way. He called out for 'lights, low' not sure he wanted to clearly see her face as they talked. He'd thought about asking Lorien along, to explain the situation, perhaps lend authority to what he knew would be a devastating revelation. But this was personal, and between the two of them. He needed her to know about the restrictions on his life span, what had really happened to him on Z'ha'dum; and it needed to be him that told her.

If the situation were reversed, if he was getting the news about her...well, he'd had some inkling over the last year or so of what his reaction might be. The day she'd come to his quarters and asked permission to attend the Markabs in what had become their tomb; he'd had to simply let her go. The relief that had washed over him when he'd seen her alive, among the piled up corpses of the unfortunate aliens, had been an object lesson in how important she'd become to him.

Not long afterwards, he'd raced down to Grey Sector, heart in his mouth, heart pounding, with Lennier's panicky words of warning echoing through his mind. Finding her limp on the floor with that bastard Sebastian leaning over her angered him and aroused all his protective instincts. At least this time he could act. Not that it had helped much, and he'd had to watch, helpless in his bonds, as she willingly bargained her life away in exchange for his.

She did much the same thing again, after the assault on her kidnappers, taking the knife meant for him after trying frantically to warn him. He could still feel the shock of her collapsing in his arms, her blood soaking through the fabric of her dress to quietly drip onto the station floor. Then his reaction had been sheer cathartic rage; there was someone responsible, someone who could pay for hurting her. He could do something. The rage had carried him through the waiting period while she was being examined and treated. He didn't want to stop and think about what it would mean if she didn't pull through.

Then, in a darkened cell on Centauri Prime, he'd seen her in danger again, and again seemingly prepared for death. They questioned her, tortured her perhaps, and his muscles still clenched and his stomach roiled at the thought of it. His wife, his son; and he still didn't know how that was going to turn out, and whether he could prevent it. He didn't know whether he'd already lost the son they'd had in that glimpse of a possible future.

And most recently, she'd turned the White Star into a shield, protecting the ship he was on from a Shadow assault. Watching helplessly adrift in a disabled ship as she put her life on the line, for him and for others... Awhile ago he had realized something. He had been able to deal with this, because it was part of who she was. It was part of who he was too. She'd watched him walk away into danger before, and undoubtedly would again. Her strength had maintained her so far, as it had him. She'd given him the strength to hold on to life, to return from Z'ha'dum and take up the mantle of leader that she had prepared for him. Had she known what it would cost? He wasn't sure. Maybe she had suspected at the beginning, but now, after all they had been through...it would be hard.

Delenn stood in the center of the dim living room, trying not to think of what she was about to hear. Lorien's words had struck a chill in her heart that wouldn't leave her. She knew; she'd known, since John returned that there was something he wasn't telling her. It wasn't like she didn't have her own secrets, but this one lingered in his eyes when he looked at her, some sadness that he couldn't put behind him. Standing straight and tensed against what was to come, she asked, "Can we have some more light, John?" Moving towards him, she stopped herself before she walked into his arms, and bracing herself, said simply and directly, "I am ready."

He took a moment to adjust the lighting, then started in with minimal preamble. "I should have told you this before. I thought at one point I wouldn't have to; that events might make it unnecessary." He looked away from her briefly, down at the floor, then raised his eyes to meet hers again. "I told you I died at Z'ha'dum, Delenn. Not in a metaphorical or spiritual sense, but literally. And that Lorien brought me back, somehow, but I didn't tell you that he couldn't fix everything back the way it was."

She hadn't breathed since he started to speak; it seemed like forever since she'd drawn a breath. "How long?" she finally managed to say, echoing her original query of Lorien. Her voice sounded cracked and harsh in her ears. He'd taken her hands between his own, and she clutched them hard, as if she could physically hold him in place. "How long do we...do you have? Is he certain? What does it mean? You are here...you seem fine," she added almost plaintively.

"Lorien says twenty years more or less." He winced as horror and pain flooded her face. She was crushing his fingers, but he didn't want to let go. He never wanted to let her go. "Barring accident or injury. It's a good run, Delenn. I'll be in my early sixties by then..." his voice tapered off as she dropped his hands abruptly and retreated a step away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. He couldn't believe how abandoned he felt at the gesture. Patiently he waited, uncertain what to do next, but willing to follow her lead, and to give her what time she needed.

Thoughts tumbled through her head, one after the other, visions of Kosh and Ulkesh; their words and cryptic advice during the war, and afterwards, on the station.'If you go to Z'ha'dum, you will die.' Her study of prophecy, her discoveries and suspicions and fears; all these had driven and shaped her life and actions. Even after he had come to mean so much to her. "No one returns from Z'ha'dum," she finally whispered. "I suppose they meant no one returns unchanged. Or undamaged," her voice rose on his thought. "You told me your people live to one hundred years, or even more. I...can't..." her voice choked off. She left unspoken the rest. _I lost our son. I can't stand to lose anyone else. I can't stand to lose you, not again._ She didn't want to follow that thought to its conclusion.

"There's something else." He decided abruptly that the time for secrets was past. Her eyes widened, and he smiled briefly, "Not bad. At least, I don't think so." He gestured towards the couch, "Let's sit down. I don't know about you, but I've just been resuscitated by a First One. Leaves the knees a little weak." He thought he spotted a shadow of a smile on her face, as she gracefully took a seat. He noted, thankfully, that she sat close by him. That seemed a good sign. Clearing his throat, he began again. "I never told you about that time on Babylon 4, when I got unstuck."

She looked confused for a minute, then said, "When you were adrift in time, you mean?"

"That's right." He gingerly reached over and reclaimed her hand, which was lying loosely in her lap. "I went forward in time, about 16 or 17 years. I was on Centauri Prime, and Londo was Emperor. The planet was a wreck; the city in flames." His voice was briefly haunted by the vision of devastation he still vividly remembered.

She looked at him expectantly, lips parted, like a child waiting for the next part of the story.

"You were there," his voice warmed at the memory. "You...we...were obviously together. As a couple. You told me you loved me..." He watched her flush, and squeezed her hand tightly. "You told me about the war, that we had won, but that it wasn't over. You told me our son was safe." He watched the words sink in, and her eyes flare with momentary pain, rapidly overlaid by a dawning hope. "I don't know if that was the future, or only a possible future, but your words then, and again before I left for Z'ha'dum, they're what brought me back."

She considered what he had said. "It was a possible future only. It may have been changed by events since your return; by choices we have made, by other experiences." Picking her way through her jumbled thoughts, she went on, "The son I referred to then might be the one whose soul I just released."

"Or it might be another child; one not yet conceived." He leaned forward, trying to make her understand, "It doesn't matter, don't you see?"

"Not matter?" she sounded slightly shocked, and more than a little disturbed.

"I didn't mean it that way!" he said urgently, trying to find the words to make her understand. "A child of yours, of ours, would be great, but what I realized, just recently, after the miscarriage," he broke off awkwardly, then drew a deep breath and went on, "What I realized is that what I really want is you. A child would make a wonderful addition to our life, but what I want is to spend that life, what I have left, with you. I want to marry you." His voice trailed off, sounding almost embarrassed. "That's not the way I meant to ask you," he said, a little sheepishly. "I don't even have a ring picked out."

She stared at him for a moment, buffeted by conflicting emotions. Bewildered, she tried to settle her mind, to decide how she felt, confronted as she was with this mix of pain and pleasure, sorrow and hope. A choice lay before her, to grasp what happiness she could for what time they were given, or to withdraw from him, trying to avoid future pain by causing it now. It didn't take a heartbeat for her to realize that there was no choice to be made. The heart does what it does, and her heart was his; for now, for twenty years, for ever and for always.

"How did you mean to ask? What is the proper ritual?" She looked at him with eyes deep and dark behind her serious expression.

He smiled crookedly, and explained. "This is the way it goes among my people. I say, 'Delenn, will you marry me?' And you say 'Yes', or 'No'." He waited a beat, then his smile slipped, "You're not going to say 'No', are you?"

In answer, she leaned forward and fiercely, passionately kissed him. It was an answer enough, but he wanted to hear the words. After a few seconds, he pulled away, just far enough to allow her the space to reply. Her mouth was still brushing his, her breath warm and sweet and rapid against his lips. "Tell me your answer, Delenn," he said hoarsely, his heartbeat sounding so loudly in his ears, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hear her.

She pulled him back into her embrace, pausing just long enough to whisper, "The answer, John, is 'Yes'."

In MedLab, all was chaos. Michael's wounds were painful, but not serious, and he watched grimly as Stephen Franklin worked on those more gravely injured. He knew each and every one of them. Hauling himself off of the bed, he limped slowly out into the anteroom at the front of the facility. Lyta was still there, but Zack had left to check on securing the Vorlon Ambassador's quarters. They planned to seal it off for now, and clear it out later, once things calmed down. Michael thought morbidly that wasn't likely to be anytime soon.

Michael sat down heavily beside Lyta, who was patiently awaiting her discharge chit from the technician. She'd checked out fine, and was ready to get away from all the pain and dissonance that was emanating from the wounded. Normally it would be an easy block, but she was tired, and trying to block Ulkesh had drained her.

"Lyta, can I ask you something?" said Michael hesitantly.

"Of course," she said politely. Sometimes she wondered why she was always so polite to these people. She suspected they never really accepted her as part of the team. Except for Zack, of course, and maybe Marcus, she considered upon reflection. Oh, and Delenn...now that she thought about it, that constituted a sizable percentage. Maybe she was being too sensitive. "What can I do for you?" she added a bit more warmly.

"Do you know of any way to get him out of my head? Vash, I mean? Or am I stuck with him?" Michael tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. If he didn't find a way, he couldn't see a clear future for himself; not in EarthForce, assuming they ever got the rebellion cleared away, or on the station, certainly not in Security, which was what he was trained for, and what he knew and was good at. He wanted to get back to work, and back to his life.

Lyta looked at him with a certain amount of sympathy. She was familiar with feeling set apart, and not completely trusted. "I don't know. Lorien might, though. I'd ask him if I were you." She added, "I'll ask him for you if you like."

"That'd be great." Michael said with relief. Then he confided, To be honest, he sort of creeps me out."

Lyta just smiled. She was familiar with that feeling too.

Susan was finally off duty. Leaving C&C wanting nothing more than a shower and the quiet comfort of her quarters, she left a message for Marcus to give her a couple of hours. She couldn't figure herself out; part of her wanted to see him, almost ached to feel his embrace, but another part of her just wanted to be left alone. It had been another stressful day, and what she really wanted was a stiff drink and some serious down time. Maybe she'd lived on her own for too long, or maybe she wasn't suited to this couple-thing. She knew Marcus would give her whatever space she asked for, but she couldn't help knowing that he was there, in the background, wanting more. Perhaps he wanted more than she could give.

Hearing the door of her quarters close with that lovely snick that meant she was sealed away from the outside world, she heaved a sigh of relief, and tugged off her jacket. The Minbari-provided uniforms were a lovely fabric, lightweight but warm in the chilly confines of C&C, but 14 hours in any piece of clothing was quite long enough. She looked at her link with loathing for a moment, briefly considering taking it off and burying it deep in a drawer. She couldn't do it; devotion to duty was woven into the fabric of her soul. Settling for opening the top two buttons of her uniform shirt and pulling it free of her trousers, she went to the bar and reached for the bottle of vodka she kept there. She almost let the liquid overflow the glass when a loud voice boomed directly behind her, "Commander Ivanova!"

"Draal," she said with resignation, turning to face the familiar golden glow of the keeper of the Great Machine. "What can I do for you?"

"There seem to be a great number of ships in the Epsilon system. It is interfering with my work. Can you ask the Captain to remove some of them?" Noticing her informality of dress, Draal beamed at her. "You are off duty! Good, you work too hard."

"I'll speak to the Captain, but frankly, the fleet should be heading out with the next couple of days. It's time we did something, anything, to take this war to our enemies." Susan took a swallow of her drink, wincing a bit as the raw alcohol hit the back of her throat. It had been awhile since she'd had time to relax and unwind. She set down her glass, and stretched her arms behind her back, enjoying the crackle of the joints as they pulled apart and then fell back into place. Draal watched her with interest.

"Intriguing ritual! What connection is there between the liquid you ingested, and the violence you are doing to the connective tissue in your shoulder joints?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and pointed towards the comscreen, which obediently lit up, awaiting further commands. "I wanted to show you something."

Susan came over towards him, and focused on the screen. "What is that? It looks like the tactical display of the station's perimeter defenses." She looked at Draal who was smiling broadly. "How did you get into those files?" she asked suspiciously. "I thought I told you to ask before accessing the station computers! When the Captain finds out what we've been doing..."

"I have told Delenn, and I am sure she has passed the information along. Besides, this is what you wanted, is it not? I will put the power of the Great Machine behind the defense of the station when the fleet is gone. I just sped up the process a little, streamlined it. Isn't that the correct expression? You were busy." Draal sounded slightly defensive and decidedly annoyed.

"No, no," said Susan soothingly. "You're right, this is just what we discussed. I'm just surprised how far you've gotten." She added, reflecting, "And a good thing too. I imagine we'll be off soon, and this had better be in place before we go."

Just then the door chime sounded. Deep in her study of the screen, she said absentmindedly, "Open."

Marcus had taken a chance and ordered takeout from a little place he knew in the better part of Brown Sector. He wasn't even sure Susan liked Chinese food, but he'd gotten a large variety of items; surely there was something she would want to eat. He entered quietly and set the food down on the counter that split the kitchen area from the rest of her quarters. He could hear her talking over towards the comscreen and assumed she was working. When he looked over, he was stunned by what he saw.

A glowing hologram of a stout elderly Minbari male was standing next to Susan in front of the screen. He recognized Draal. What astonished him was Susan was glowing too...at least her right arm, which as he watched she put _into_ the comscreen, somehow. Her fingers moved data around like a stylus, flicking through screen views like they were the pages of a book. Draal was alternating between examining the screen closely, and watching Susan with a strong glint of pride in his expression.

"If you expand the forcefield to cover this area, the jump gate should be adequately protected. I've been concerned they'll try to blow it, and isolate the station that way. It would certainly be effective." Susan pulled her hand out of the computer, and it retained its spectral yellow glow briefly, then extinguished.

Draal commented, "You are getting better at that, Commander. I am still unsure how you are accessing the Great Machine remotely, without your corporeal body being wired into the cradle. It shouldn't be possible..." he broke off, and turned to look at Marcus. "I should be going, Commander. I wish you every success in your mission, and will speak to you on your return." He bowed his head to her, and then at a lesser angle, towards Marcus. "Ranger," he said in farewell, and he winked out of view.

Marcus was still standing with his mouth slightly open. Susan looked at him wearily. "I suppose you saw that." He nodded, still not speaking. "And I suppose you'd like an explanation."

He raised one eyebrow and said, "What do you think?"

She crossed the room, and started looking into the various boxes and bags on the counter, trying to stall off the discussion. "This looks good. Can it wait until after we eat?"

Marcus walked over to her, and put his hand over hers. "I'm afraid not. What the hell was that? Was Draal doing it? It didn't sound like he understood what you were doing either!"

"I was helping Draal set the Great Machine's force field to cover the periphery of the jump gate. It should keep protect the machinery if there's an attempt by any of our enemies to detonate a charge inside it and blow up the gate." She looked a bit uncomfortable at his worried expression, and then sighed. "Okay, let's sit down. I have something I've been meaning to tell you. Now's as good a time as any." She picked up her drink, gesturing towards the bottle and glasses in offering. He shook his head, and walked over to the couch. She sat next to him, and tried to gather her thoughts. This wasn't going to be easy. Probably best to just get it over with.

"You know I've been wired into the Great Machine a few times now," she began. It was always good to begin with a neutral recitation of history, she thought. "I've used the holographic system a couple of times now, too."

Marcus nodded, wondering when she was going to get to the point, assuming there was one.

"When I was Epsilon Three this last time, I found that sometimes I could access the Machine without being hooked into it. Draal was shocked the first time I did it; even Zathras was surprised, though not shocked I think. I got the impression he had known it was possible. Perhaps it's even happened before, I don't know for sure."

"But what does it mean? Is it dangerous?" asked Marcus. "Can you control it, or is the Machine doing this itself?"

"I'm controlling it, and that's sort of the point." She took a deep breath. She didn't want to hurt him, and she wasn't sure she wanted to lose...whatever it was they had, but he needed to know. "Draal thinks I'm destined to be the next keeper of the Machine." She didn't even look at him, not wanting to see if he was shocked or upset or furious. "I think he may be right."

Marcus sat in silence for a moment, trying to absorb what she was telling him. "Why would you want to do something like that? Did Draal talk you into it?" He stood and began to pace back and forth, in front of the couch. "Are you running away from something?" He stopped and looked at her, "Are you running away from me?" His voice had grown hard, and a little angry. "You can't avoid pain, you can't avoid life, by running away from it! Destiny's what you make it, Susan."

"I'm not sure what I want!" Susan exploded briefly. "And who are you to talk about avoiding life? Why did you join the Rangers, after all? Altruism? Belief in the cause? Or was it in absolution?" She paused to take a drink, barely stopping herself from slamming the glass back down. "Sit down, and let me try to tell you what it's like," she said tensely. She leaned forward, and began speaking slowly, trying to explain. "Being in the Machine is like nothing I've ever experienced before. You can go anywhere, see everything, the past, sometimes the future, or at least possible futures. It's wonderful and scary and terrible and awe-inspiring-all at once. I'm getting better and better at using it; Zathras says he's never seen anything like it. I'm good at it, and it's important, vital, that the Machine be accessible. Look what Draal has done already, putting its power to use sending Babylon 4 back in time, protecting the station now!" Her eyes were glowing with enthusiasm for a moment. "I have other priorities at this moment, that's true, but it's something I can see myself doing, sometime, in the future..." Her voice tapered off, and she ended, "I can see it." She fell silent, and her eyes focused inward, as if she was looking at invisible wonders.

Marcus cleared his throat. "All right. I can see this is a wonderful career opportunity for you, even if the start date is a little hazy." He took her hands within his own, and said, "What about us, Susan? Where do I fit into this, if I do at all? I thought we were starting to build something, between the two of us. Was I wrong?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe we were, but I can't ask you to buy into a relationship that could end at any minute. It wouldn't be fair."

Marcus sat back, and began to laugh, softly at first, then louder.

Susan couldn't believe it; here she was trying to be considerate, let him down easy, and somehow he found it amusing. "What the hell are you laughing at?" she demanded.

"You. Us." He finally choked out, tears in his eye from laughing. "We're about to go into a war against an unbeatable enemy, against insurmountable odds. It's likely we won't live out the week, and you're wanting to break it off cause we don't have a future!"

She stared at him for a moment, then dropped her gaze, hiding her own reluctant smile. "Well, when you put it like that...it is pretty funny."

Marcus grew serious. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes back behind her ear. "I'm a Ranger, Susan, and I plan to stay one. Whatever the reason I joined, I take my vows seriously. 'We walk in the dark places, where no one else will go.' There's always a chance, often a good one, that I won't come back from the next mission. You're an EarthForce officer, subject to the orders of your superior officers. Sometimes they will order you into danger. Our lives are dangerous. I'm willing to take whatever you have to offer, for however long we have."

"It doesn't seem fair," said Susan stubbornly. "You deserve better."

"Life isn't fair," said Marcus, casting a thought towards Sheridan and Delenn. It really wasn't fair, he thought. "If you're giving me a choice, I say let's take a chance. We have no way of knowing the future, unless of course you can get a direct line through the Machine." He paused, then said lightly, trying to hide his anxiety, "Have you considered looking into the Mars Lottery numbers, say for the next few months?"

Susan persisted, "What if I say 'no'?" She added hesitantly, not wanting to hurt him further, "I'm not even sure I love you. I mean, I love you; you're my friend, but...oh God. I'm no good at this." She shook her head in despair.

"That's your choice, your feelings, and your decision," he said shortly. "Just be sure you're doing it for yourself, and not for me. I don't need your protection. And I don't want your pity."

"No," said Susan, then added, "I don't want that either."

The silence between them grew awkward, when Marcus let go of her hands, and then slapped his together. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving." As they got up and headed towards the kitchen, he remarked casually, "So, if you end up like old Draal, will your body need exercised at all? Cause I could help with that...drop by every few months or so, take it out for a spin..."

Susan stopped poking around among the containers for a moment, and grinned. "I'll make sure you get first shot at the position."

Marcus left right after dinner. Susan hadn't protested. She'd seemed exhausted, and he knew she had a full shift tomorrow, probably more like two. He'd kept things casual, but his heart was burning in his chest. As he walked down the corridor he became more frustrated and angry. This wasn't right, and it wasn't just because there was a risk he'd lose her. There had to be someway he could make her see that she would be throwing her life away. Becoming part of a computer the size of a planet, however interesting, was just a waste. He found himself wandering towards the VIP quarters, still fuming, thinking he'd look up Neroon and see if he was up for some denn'bok practice. He had to release some of this pent-up energy. If he couldn't do it in a pleasant fashion with Susan, then beating the hell out of Neroon would have to do. Of course, he'd probably be the one getting beat up, but that could work, too.

He approached Neroon's door, and hit the chime, impatiently bouncing on the balls of his feet. He felt like someone had wound a spring up tight in his chest, and if he didn't get some release, he'd explode.

When the door opened, he entered quickly, giving the ritual greeting before he even noticed the presence of Lennier.

"Hello, Lennier. Am I interrupting?" Marcus' calm tone belied the wild expression in his eyes. However distracted, he still noticed the two Minbari carefully avoided looking at each other.

"We were discussing our current situation, both here and at home," replied Neroon neutrally. "Have you eaten?" He gestured towards an empty chair at the small dining table.

Marcus noted the remains of a typical Minbari meal in front of the two of them. "Just finished. What situation is that? Is there something happening on Minbar?" He took a seat and looked at Neroon curiously.

Neroon sighed heavily. "We have no effective government at this time. Since Delenn dissolved the Grey Council, it has reformed, but there is imbalance and uncertainty, and the people are beginning to feel it. There are contradictory edicts issued, even at the highest level. Factions are jockeying for power, and there seems to be little overarching vision for the future."

"Does Delenn know of this?" asked Marcus in concern.

"Some of it. I have sent her messages, from time to time, trying to ascertain her opinion of various issues. But she has been preoccupied with the war, a matter of little concern to the Council. She is correct in her priorities, in that the situation on Minbar will hardly matter if the Shadows triumph. Or the Vorlons," Neroon added reflectively. "The situation here is immediate and perilous, which is why I am here, and staying here. But there is now a void in her information stream. Morthenn and the others are not privy to the machinations of my clan. I could not in all honor tell her, or you, some of the strategies being discussed, but it is a matter of deep concern to me."

"You think Minbar is in for some difficulties?" Marcus said. "Let's get through this war intact first-surely it can be dealt with after wards?"

Lennier shook his head. "The more we know, the better prepared we will be for whatever comes. It is not good, this lack of information." He looked down at the table, not wanting to meet the eyes of the others. "I am considering returning to Minbar."

Marcus stared at him, "Now? On the brink of the final battle? You'd abandon her, I mean... us?"

"It is not a bad idea," interjected Neroon. There were subtle undercurrents between Delenn and her aide that were disturbing, but he did not doubt the man's loyalties. "Lennier is trusted by the religious caste, and the workers would accept him on Delenn's recommendation. There are a few warriors who I could provide introductions to; those able to place the needs of all Minbari above those of their own clan and caste."

Marcus looked hard at his friend, who had said nothing further. It must be getting harder for him, as Sheridan and Delenn grew closer as a couple. "It might work at that." He asked gently, "When would you go?"

"Immediately. It would do no good to wait, would it?" Lennier's voice was calm, and neutral.

Marcus thought he'd never heard such control of what must be a great deal of underlying pain. "When will you tell her?" Remembering the scene he'd come upon after Ulkesh's expulsion, he thought that Sheridan and Delenn had looked as if they needed no interruptions that evening.

"Tomorrow morning. She will understand, and I will continue in her service." Lennier added definitively, "Just not here."

"Not all soldiers can be on the front line, Lennier. This seems like a good choice for you," Neroon said. "Now, what brought you here, Ranger? You never said."

"I actually came looking for a fight." At Neroon's expression of anticipation, he almost laughed. "Some denn'bok practice. I find that the waiting is getting to me."

Neroon smiled broadly, "Excellent! I too, find the eve of battle drags. Let us hone what skills we can, as I am sure we will have need of all of them."

Lennier excused himself, saying he needed to arrange some things before the morning. Marcus used the com system in Neroon's quarters to reserve an exercise room, and led the Minbari out into the corridors, on their way to an evening of martial bliss

The next morning there was a meeting of the War Council. Delenn sat silent as John outlined his plan to lure both the Shadows to the same place the Vorlons were heading, to Coriana Six. The representatives of the various governments watched as Sheridan gave his instructions to Erickson, the Ranger in charge of the contingent of White Stars nearest to the Shadow fleet. All had to observe, all had to agree. All had to watch as the sacrifice was agreed to by the volunteers. Delenn took the reverent and ritual farewell from Erickson in stride, although John could see that she was deeply affected.

Neroon gave the man the ritual Warrior salute-that which was reserved for those who are about to die. Erickson, to his surprise, returned it. He wished he had known the human better, but it gave him great hope for his new army. These Rangers knew how to die, and that was an important part of knowing how to fight. The Council broke up after that, with only the core people remaining. Lennier had approached Delenn, and was speaking to her quietly. He drifted closer, curious as to her reaction to her aide's announcement.

"I will be on the afternoon transport. That way I can be through the gate before the fleet deploys." Lennier was filling in the silence emanating from Delenn with travel details.

Neroon thought she looked even more stricken than she had at Erickson's ritual invocation of the Ranger oath. "Lennier will be doing me a favor," he interjected smoothly.

Delenn looked at him in surprise, "What favor is that, Anla'Shok Na?" She resorted to formality as she tried to process the news. Another loss, this time of someone she had thought would always be there; it was hard to bear, especially today.

"I was torn between wishing to engage in the battle, and wanting to remain on Minbar to monitor the situation there. Lennier is, in essence, taking my place, and he has my gratitude for giving up his chance at war in exchange for the entangling coils of diplomacy and government. He will be a source of information, and a representative for you at home. I think it will become important, later." Neroon saw that her color was returning, and that she was pleased with his appreciation of her aide.

"You do me too much honor, Anla'Shok Na. I could never take your place, in Council, or in battle." Lennier tried to deflect Neroon's praise.

"Nonsense. You will be invaluable. You see far more that you let on, which is an admirable trait in an observer. There is much to see, I am afraid." Neroon fell silent.

Delenn turned to Lennier, and said, "I will see you at the transit area this afternoon." She cut off his protest, saying, "One last time, your obedience in this is required. My understanding is lacking, except that this is important to you, and as Neroon says, it will be good to have someone at home whom I can trust completely. Take care, and I will see you before you leave." Lennier bowed and left, leaving Neroon and Delenn to watch his departure together.

"I suspect there is more to his going that I am being told," said Delenn.

Neroon shook his head. "I cannot say. He is no coward, at least not when it comes to battle. This is what he wants, and he will be of some use there. Let him go, and it may all come right in the end."

"I suppose. But I will miss him," she said. "I am glad you came, Neroon."

He looked at her fondly, but with a shadow in his eyes. "I came to fight a battle I can understand. What is going on at home; that is not my kind of war."

Just then John called to Delenn, and she excused herself. Marcus came over to him, and said, "How did she take it?"

"She is no coward either. How long will this feint take? Do you think we will see action soon?" Neroon asked impatiently.

"Tomorrow, next day at the latest, is the word I'm getting. We'll hear back from Erickson by late tonight, station time. He won't waste any time, unless I miss my guess. Eager to get to it?" asked Marcus, a glint in his eye.

"You might say that," replied Neroon. "Warrior caste Minbari are often blessed, or perhaps I should say cursed, with a presentiment of their own death." He added, with sober emphasis. "I do not believe I will return from this engagement. I hope we can strike a death blow to our enemies with this tactic, as I do not see myself having another chance." He bowed his head to Marcus, and stalked out of the war room.

Lorien entered the war room and crossed over to where John and Delenn were talking. "May I speak with you?" he said, addressing Sheridan.

"What is it?" answered John. Delenn started to withdraw, but he laid his hand on her arm, and she stayed.

"Ms. Alexander has presented me with a request, from your Mr. Garibaldi," said Lorien. "I thought while we were waiting, we might deal with it. I would like you to be present, and perhaps the Vorlon should be as well."

"I should like to meet Velana Naranek," said Delenn. "She is of Kosh's kind, is she not? His family, his clan, perhaps?"

"She is, or as close as I can come to the Vorlon concept in your terms. So was Ulkesh, of course." Lorien looked closely at Delenn, who held his gaze without flinching. "Why not? Shall we reconvene aboard my ship? Can you arrange for Mr. Garibaldi to be brought there?"

"I'll ask him to come, if that's what you mean," said John. "In about an hour?"

"That would be fine. Time grows short. Your plan should be put in motion soon. And then we will see." Lorien smiled as if anticipating a treat.

"That we will," said John. "I have to finish up here. Can you make sure everything is ready for when Erickson reports back?" This he addressed to Delenn.

"Of course," she said with a tight smile. "I will meet you at Lorien's ship. In one hour."

Michael was beginning to think this had not been his best brainwave. Lorien's ship was unlike anything any of them had seen, and to make things extra special, there was a Vorlon waiting inside. Of course, nothing beat having a Shadow in your head for overall weirdness. He still had Nanny with him, but John had asked his guard to wait at the entrance to the docking bay. The man had been happy to oblige.

Lorien was already in there, and John and Delenn were waiting for him in the transport elevator. He swallowed hard, and joined them inside. Delenn made small talk, trying to put him at ease, which he appreciated, while the 'vator went up and they heard the connecting locks whine and whir as their transport linked up with Lorien's ship.

When the door opened, John went straight in like he knew where he was going, which Michael realized he would. He and Delenn followed until they reached what Michael thought must be the First One equivalent of a bridge or command center of some kind. It was a round room, with nothing that looked like seats or chairs, just a chest high railing in front of a large view port. The port was closed, sealed with louvered shutters of grey metal. When you stared at them too close, they wavered and blurred as if they were illusory rather than solid. Perhaps they were. In front of the port, and on the other side of the railing, was a familiar encounter suit. The figure breathed in and out, or seemed to, and its iris opened and closed rhythmically.

Delenn walked up to Velana and bowed in greeting. "I am Delenn," she said. "It is an honor to meet you. I knew Kosh, a little. For a little while. I am sorry for your loss, both the recent one, and before."

"Reflections reveal the truth ," said Velana, apparently considering Delenn. "First One." She tilted her helmet in Lorien's direction. "Entil'zha," she then added, turning to Sheridan, who nodded back.

Michael touched John's arm. "Did you get a promotion? I thought Delenn was Entil'zha."

"No, I didn't, and yes, she is, but I'm not wasting my time correcting a Vorlon. It'd take all day, and I'd still get nowhere in the end," Sheridan whispered back. Then he turned to Lorien. "Why did you think Velana would be interested in Michael's 'problem'?"

Lorien didn't answer, instead turning to Michael. "I can remove Vash, but I must warn you, it will not be a pleasant process to undergo. Still, you will survive. Your guest will not."

Michael was disconcerted. "No one mentioned that. Will he go wherever they go...when they die?"

"No," answered Lorien. "It will be a final ending. Apart from his fellows, alone. But he has no future in any case. Nowhere to go, and nowhere to stay. It was the risk he took, for his cause, for his sector."

"Sector?" asked John.

"Family, clan, group. I am unsure of the exact parallel designation." Lorien put both his hands together, fingertips touching. "Are you ready?"

Velana seemed to grow agitated. "Let it speak," she finally said.

Lorien tilted his head, considering. "You mean Vash? Certainly. Was there a question you wished to ask it?"

Michael raised his hand, "Do I get any say in this?" He walked closer to Velana, and looked her up and down. "I never knew where to look a Vorlon in the eye." He peered at the iris near the bottom of the helmet, and said, "I'll let you talk to him, but first tell me why."

"To know your enemy is to know yourself," said Velana. Her voice, fluting out of the encounter suit, sounded as if it was coming from all around them.

It made the hair on Michael's neck stand up."That's pretty much why Vash is here. To know us." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Is that why you're here? Whose side are you on anyway?" Fear made the questions come out belligerent.

"Yes. To know...why you are." Velana fell silent, then turned towards Lorien. "Let him speak. Please."

Lorien looked at Michael, who nodded his agreement. Lorien placed one hand, fingers outstretched, against Michael's face. Immediately, Michael's face went slack, and there was the sound of dry laughter from his throat.

_What do you want, Vorlon?_

"To know who you are."

_I am no one, now. A shadow of a Shadow, no longer a player, merely an observer. Much like you, in fact._

"We act." There was definitely regret in Velana's voice, clear even through the modulation of the suit.

_You do! You do, at last. And yet here we both are, trapped behind the front lines, unable or unwilling to participate in what may be the final battle. The final determination of the final question. I will not see the end, but you will._ There was bitterness there, and resignation, and some anger.

Velana remained silent for a moment, then spoke. "Then stay."

_The human wants rid of me, and who can blame him? His destiny, such as it is, is denied him while he carries this pathetic remnant._

"You feel sympathy." Velana said, as if struck by the idea. She then turned towards Delenn. "You were a bridge too far. Kosh was wrong to advise this. He too, felt...sympathy." She looked at John, who was standing close by Delenn. "He chose death."

Lorien was watching the Vorlon carefully. "Are you finished?"

"No'!" The word was torn from Velana. She glided away from the others, facing the curved wall to one side of the port. The iris of her suit opened, and a bright light flowed out, burning a hole in the wall of the ship. When the light stopped, the wall flowed back together, becoming a seamless expanse once again. "The rift can heal if the structure is whole." Turning back towards Michael, she asked quickly, as if afraid she would change her mind if she hesitated, "Stay with me."

John and Delenn exchanged a swift glance, and he took her hand, leaning over to whisper in her ear, "She's wrong. I chose life."

Delenn smiled wanly, twining her fingers between his, and said, "I think she meant Kosh."

Lorien looked at Michael, and said, "Vash, would you want to be carried by Velana? You will be unable to direct her actions, or hear all her thoughts, but you could observe, and speak when she allowed it. It is only a partial life."

_It is something._ Michael's head swiveled towards Velana. _Why would you do this?_

"I wish to know who I am." Velana then said to Lorien, "If he is willing, do this thing. Release the human to himself."

Lorien nodded, and placed one hand on Michael's face, then reached inside a gap in the encounter suit that had appeared. Blinding white light poured out, and Lorien's hand slipped inside up to the elbow, his robes falling away from the opening. John and Delenn watched as an oily black substance poured out of Michael's eyes and mouth, slithered down Lorien's hand and arm, across the bridge the First One formed between human and Vorlon. The blackness slid inside the suit, as Velana jerked spasmodically, thrashing from side to side. Lorien then removed his arm and the suit closed. The sudden removal of the light left them blinking and disoriented, but John dropped Delenn's hand in time to catch Michael as he slumped towards the floor.

"Is he all right?" Delenn asked John anxiously. John had lowered Michael to the floor, where he lay unconscious. Turning to Lorien, who was watching Velana with curiosity, Delenn asked him, "Is Vash gone? Completely gone?"

"Oh, he's gone, all right," came Michael's voice. He caught at John's arms and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. "He left behind one hell of a headache, and what feels like a hole of some kind. The feeling's fading, but he's gone."

"Yes," said Lorien. "He is inside Velana now. For better or for worse."

"Velana," said Delenn, "Can you hear us? Are you in pain? Can we do anything?"

The Vorlon stood, not moving, the iris of its suit still and closed. Suddenly, it convulsed, shaking hard, and then the familiar melodious voice was heard. "I would like some time...alone."

_Never alone. Never again._ Vash's voice wasn't triumphant, rather it was...thankful.

John's link sounded, and they all heard the message. Erickson's ship was in position. The subterfuge was underway, and in a few hours they would know if it had worked. Then the final stage would begin.

Lorien spoke to Velana, "You will come with us when we leave. Rest now." He headed towards the transport, only pausing to look back once. "Are you coming?" The others followed him, John still supporting Michael unobtrusively. The Vorlon stayed motionless, but the view port behind her was no open. Instead of the walls of the docking bay, they could see stars, bright against the black sky, light against the darkness.

The next day the fleet left for Coriana Six. Susan and Marcus were on one of the White Stars, the tension between them not affecting how smoothly they interacted on the command deck. Neroon was directing the Rangers from one of the Minbari Sharlin war cruisers, solitary in his foreboding. John and Delenn were together, as they would always be from now on, joined at a level deeper than that of the physical plane. Lorien accompanied them, with Velana/Vash, and Lyta, who had left Zack tear-stained, both proud and furious that she was going into battle.

Michael Garibaldi stood at the main viewing window in C&C, arms crossed across his chest. He was wearing the uniform of the Army of Light, and he was part of that army once again. Zack was behind him, his ever-loyal lieutenant, and the command staff awaited his orders. With the aid of Draal, and the Great Machine on the planet below, his aim was to keep the station and its inhabitants safe during the coming storm. He was in command again, in command of himself, and of Babylon Five.


End file.
